


Love in Emerald

by Ultimate_Fandom_Queen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Angst, Blowjobs, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Family, Happy Ending, Harry Protection Squad, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mpreg, Pining, Rimming, Sorry Not Sorry, You might hate Pepper Potts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimate_Fandom_Queen/pseuds/Ultimate_Fandom_Queen
Summary: All Harry Potter ever wanted was a loving family. Unfortunately, as a 14 year old orphan being raised by his abusive aunt and uncle, that dream seemed far from his reach.Meanwhile, all Bruce Banner ever wanted was a family of his own. Unfortunately, it seemed that because of a certain green friend, that dream would remain only a dream forever.That is, until a box of letters belonging to James Potter reveals a flurry of secrets that could change the two men's lives forever. Will they form the familial bond their blood dictates, or will the hardships of life and vendettas of those around them be too much for them to overcome?A story of finding a family, love, and learning to appreciate silver linings and moments of happiness in even the worst situations.





	1. Jewelery Box

"Boy! Get the door! That infernal bell is spoiling my breakfast." Called the rotund man at the table to the boy currently playing yet another pound of bacon for he and his equally porky son.  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Replied the boy in question. Harry Potter approached the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive, holding back any comments about the impossibility of anything spoiling his uncle's breakfast. He and his son had already finished off half a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon this morning, not to mention the amount of heavily buttered toast. Meanwhile, his aunt, thin as a rail and with an incredibly long neck, sat daintily munching on freshly cut apple slices, giving her an even more giraffe like appearance than usual as she craned her neck to peer through the kitchen window at whatever the neighbors were doing.  
Harry himself had shoved half a piece of dry toast in his mouth as he cooked. "You're lucky we even give you That much." His uncle had said as he shoved his third egg down his gullet that morning.  
Of course, at this point, Harry was used to it. The only time he was ever aloud to properly eat was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it was only late June, the middle of summer break. Indeed, when he had first come home for the summer, his uncle hadn't aloud him to eat at all, claiming he needed to cleanse him of all trades of "freak food" before he was aloud to accept anything bought with Vernon's "hard earned money."  
Well, anything except...  
Harry shook his head of those thoughts as he opened the door. The boy frowned as he saw that no one was there. Thinking perhaps it was one of Dudley's friends pulling a prank, he stepped outside, glancing around. Harry blinked when his foot bumped something hard, looking down to find a small metal box with a strange coat of arms on the front; a simple shield shape with a strip of black and white pattern going through the middle horizontally and three flowers positioned near the three points of the shape. Harry bent down, picking it up, and gasped as he immediately felt the magic surrounding the object caress his finger tips, as if it recognized him. Harry ran his fingers gently over the image, watching as a simple name appeared just below the coat of arms.  
"Potter..." He whispered softly, reading the magical writing. So then, was the symbol the Potter family crest? What was in the box? Why had it suddenly appeared to him now?  
Harry had so many questions, and it appeared that the answers could only be found within the box.  
However, just as Harry was about to lift the lid, a strong, meaty hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around forcefully. "What have you got there, boy?" Harry had almost forgotten about his uncle and the others, waiting for him in the next room. Fearful, Harry attempted to turn away, having every intention to run from the fat man before him. Of course, that was an idiotic thought, as his Uncle's hand was still on him. Harry was pulled back immediately, the door slammed shut as his uncle practically threw him into the wall. "Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to run with a bit of mail? Is that what you want? To be sleeping on the floor of some shack in the ocean again?" The man asked, shaking Harry violently. The young wizard didn't mention that the last time had resulted in him being whisked away to a magical school, regardless of his uncle's efforts to contain him. However, his uncle appeared to read his thoughts nevertheless. Harry braced himself as the man's eyes filled with rage, his fat face turning bright red as he brought his fist back, bringing it down hard on the side of the boy's head. Harry didn't even remember hitting the ground. His ears were ringing and he was having an exceedingly hard time keeping his vision in focus. At some point, his aunt had entered the room, picking up the box and gasping in horror before tossing it into the fireplace, working to start the fire despite it being the middle of the summer, clearly bent on destroying the item. "N-No! Stop it. 'smine-" Harry barely managed to slur out before he was once again punched by a big, meaty fist, this time the blow landing squarely in the mouth. Harry was sure that only magic and will must be keeping his teeth in at that point. However, it didn't stop the sickening crunch of his nose being broken and both his lips from bleeding heavily.  
Harry could no longer resist as his uncle hauled him up by his shoulder, literally dragging him up the stairs to his bedroom and throwing him unceremoniously onto the bed. "Don't you dare move. I'll be back." His uncle said, then slammed the door hard. Harry could hear the click of the click on the other side as he laid there for a few seconds. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself into sitting position and went to the loose floorboard where he hid various magical items he kept for emergencies. He pulled out a vile of light blue liquid, hands shaking as he uncorked it, swallowing the potion down with only a small grimace. He sighed in relief as he felt the potions effects immediately take hold. While he couldn't take anything that would heal his outer wounds for fear of angering his uncle, he had managed to convince Fred and George to brew him a few potions before the last school year that would cure a concussion and any internal damage that his uncle may inflict, as well as take away his pain. He would have asked Hermione, but she would have asked too many questions, and then suggest he report to Dumbledore.  
Harry stared blankly as he returned the empty vial and closed up the secret hiding spot, sighing in confusion and frustration, making his way back to his bed. While a small part of him was reluctant to believe it, Harry no longer felt Dumbledore was trustworthy. At least when his safety was concerned. The boy knew that there had to have been ways for Dumbledore to exempt him from the tournament last year, and yet the 14 year old still had to face all those terrible tasks. When contemplating this throughout the summer, Harry had seen other moments when Dumbledore appeared untrustworthy. For example, how had he not realized that Voldemort was so close his first year? Or that Lockhart was a fraud his second year? Why had he not done more to help Remus when he resigned? How could he not realize Sirius was innocent all those years ago? Why hadn't he noticed that Alastor Moody was a fake this year passed? None of it made sense. Here he was, this great and powerful light wizard, constantly putting Harry in harm's way, or at the very least not properly keeping him safe. Harry could still recall Hagrid saying how safe Hogwarts was just before the start of his first term. So far Harry had yet to see any evidence of this.  
And then there was the most glaring example of Dumbledore either being completely incompetent or not caring for Harry's well being whatsoever.  
Why had he continuously forced Harry to live with his aunt and uncle, even after repeatedly reporting the abuse he had experienced?  
Harry's thoughts were cut off by the sound of the door opening. Only now did Harry realize that it was nearly dark outside. He had spent the entire day laying in bed, mulling over the events of the past four years, and, whether because of his injuries, the potion, or exhaustion and lack of food, he hadn't even realized it.  
"Hello there, boy." His uncle said in a sickeningly sweet voice, an all too wide grin on his face. Harry swallowed nervously, realizing that this was going to be a long night.


	2. Hate of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick chapter title summary:  
> Each chapter will be named for an emotion and jewel associated with that chapter. Obviously, the "Emerald" in the main title is named for both Bruce and Harry or Harry's eyes and the big green guy, as well as a few other things I won't spoil for you.  
> Other times, it will be more symbolic, such as this one, a bit of a play on "Diamond in the Rough" as well as an indication of Harry's strength. All of the other chapter's will have similar themes, but I will leave it up to you to interpret them.  
> If it is really killing you to know, you can always ask.  
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains oral rape and Severe abuse. For most chapters, I will attempt to include warnings and end marks so that you may skip the more lemon scented scenes if you wish, but for this one it is necessary to the story.  
> Sorry. Enjoy!

Harry had gotten used to the taste of his Uncle's cock in his mouth. That realization in itself made him feel sick, but it was all too painfully true. At least it meant he would not get punished for mediocre work in this particular area.  
Harry could still recall the first time his uncle had done this to him. He and his aunt had gotten into a fight over which school to enroll their son in and Petunia had taken Dudley to a family member's for the night. Unfortunately, she left while Uncle Vernon was extremely horny, painfully hard and desperate for release. In his anger and frustration, he had thought nothing of dragging the child out from under the stairs and forcing his face to his crotch. He had held Harry's nose until he opened his mouth and shoved it in as far as it would go. Harry almost immediately fought himself off and vomited onto the floor from the assault on his gag reflex and the taste, but his uncle had only pulled him right back in, threatening to snap his neck if he did that again. His hips had thrust wildly against Harry's face until something warm and salty poured down the child's throat. He pulled back and threw up again before collapsing onto the floor, shaking violently, his pale form covered in sweat as he tried to finally get his breath back. He hadn't had that much in his stomach to begin with, and Harry could still recall how badly his stomach cramped with the emptiness of it in that moment.  
Meanwhile, his uncle had gone to the kitchen, downing a glass of water before grabbing the mop and a bucket of water. he tossed the mop down and offered the bucket to the small child. "Clean this mess up." he snarled between gritted teeth. When Harry still didn't move, the man tossed the bucket of cold water onto his already shivering form, throwing it down. "This floor had better be spotless by morning, boy, or else." With that, the man stomped off up the stairs to his bedroom.  
When he finally regained some semblance of composure, Harry slowly pulled himself up, doing as he was to told. Once the floor was once again clean, the boy willingly slunk back into his cupboard. He closed the door and stripped of his clothes, feeling dirty on a level that he didn't yet understand, before curling up on the pile of blankets and rags that served as his bed and sobbing himself to sleep.  
That had been ten years ago now, when Harry was not quite five years old.  
Now, as his uncle thrust his hips into the boy's mouth in anger and frustration, Harry only sat there complacently, making sure to keep his teeth away from the member but never to stop the slight sucking motion as his uncle assaulted him. Though more painful, especially when his lips were so cut up and swollen, these times were better than when Vernon forced Harry to perform fellatio himself. At least in times like this Harry didn't have to feel as if he were doing this upon his own will, as if he deserved the treatment he was getting. "Yeah, you like that, don't you, ya little cock sucking slut!" His uncle growled out, his hips moving faster. Finally, Harry felt the short but fat member in his mouth twitch as the all too familiar taste of sperm rushed down his throat. Learning from experience, he swallowed reluctantly, knowing things would only be worse for him if he didn't.  
His uncle pushed him off, tossing Harry to the ground. The young wizard did his best to keep quiet as he caught his breath, the impact having knocked the wind out of him. Meanwhile, his uncle knelt behind him, manhandling his body until he was on his hands and knees. Vernon had demanded Harry strip as soon as he reentered the room, so the boy was already nude before him. Harry's breath caught in his throat, hoping, praying that his uncle wouldn't finally succeed in bringing forth his worst fear.  
He could hear Vernon growling behind him as his hand worked wildly in an attempt to reharden his softened penis. Harry could hardly contain the sigh of relief when he heard the tell tale sound of utter frustration. While his uncle was exceedingly rough in the moment, he could never go more than one round, and so thus far Harry's virginity had been spared. With a final cry of anger, Vernon roughly brought his fist down onto his Nephew's back, roughly knocking him to the ground before he walked away, slamming the door behind him. Harry laid there, for one terrible moment fearing he may have gone paralyzed, before finding the strength to get up once more. Every movement felt like a hammer was being taken to his back, while his lips felt like needles were being driven through them. His throat was so incredibly dry he wasn't sure if he could speak even if he wanted to, let alone was allowed.  
However, with this rough treatment brought forth one thought that gave him hope.  
The only reason that his uncle would be so very rough on him was if he had not been able to destroy the box found on the doorstep.

The next morning, Harry awoke to a heavy pounding on his door. The clock next to his bed told him that it wasn't quite the usual time to make breakfast yet, but he got up none the less, not wanting to be the cause of more anger from his uncle. Harry bit his lip, fighting back a scream as he sat up. His back hurt worse now than it did the night before. He sighed, slowly making his way to his hidden stash and opening the potions box, only to curse under his breath upon finding that he had gone through his entire stash of the special healing potions. He sighed, taking a simple pain relieving potion instead, before getting up and getting dressed. While a little worried about any damage that may have been done to his body, the potion did at least take away the pain, Harry made his way to his dresser, throwing on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt that use to belong to his cousin and exiting his room, making his way to the kitchen to start breakfast. His aunt and Uncle were sitting quietly at the table, his aunt glaring out the window while his uncle stared angrily at the paper. However, Dudley was no where to be seen, presumably sleeping, confirming his previous suspicions on the time. Harry stood with his hands folded in front of him, waiting for his orders on what to make for breakfast. Not looking up, his uncle said, "Omelettes. Mine with cheese, mushrooms, onions, ham, and bacon."  
Harry nodded, looking at his aunt, who simply said, "Peppers. Only the whites. Dudley can have my yolks." Harry nodded again, getting to work on the omelettes in question, making his uncle two the way he requested and his aunt one. Just as he was setting out the plates, Harry could hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Petunia smiled fondly as her very round son walked into the room, still dressed in pajamas and eyes barely open.  
"Dudley, darling, you're up early." the thin woman said.  
"Smelled food." the teen spoke out gruffly.  
Harry rolled his eyes, getting to work on his cousin's omelette. Not needing to be asked, Dudley recited what he wanted in his omelette. "Bacon, ham, sausage, and cheese. Lot's of it." Harry didn't say anything as he set out making two large omelettes with those specifications, adding Petunia's egg yolks to the mix. When he was done setting the all out, Harry turned to his uncle, a silent question as to what he was to eat. Vernon glanced up at him, his mouth full of omelette. He swallowed, realizing what Harry wanted, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. "I think you've had enough to eat after last night, don't you?"  
Harry swallowed down his anger at the words, taking his usual place by the counter in case anyone wanted any more food. Luckily it was far enough in the summer that he was getting used to the lack of food, his stomach having mostly stopped growling when he was hungry. At least he would be spared those beatings.  
After his uncle had eaten his third omelette and his cousin his fourth, Dudley made his way back upstairs to get ready for school. Instantly, the moment they heard the heavy footsteps off the stairs, Vernon lunged, grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and dragging him into the living room, throwing him onto the floor. Petunia followed him stoically, taking a seat on the couch while her husband dug through the ashes of the fireplace, pulling out the box with the Potter family crest on it, pristine despite b=having just been covered in ash and lit on fire multiple times.  
"We've tried fire, an ax, knives, hammers. Everything we could think of. But still not a scratch on this- this... Devil's Box!" Vernon cried out, shaking in anger as Harry sat up. The boy wasn't really sure what Vernon wanted of him. After all, it wasn't his fault that the box had showed up, or that whatever magic was around it.  
Still shaking, face going red, Vernon thrust the box into his nephew's hands. "Open it." he growled out.  
Harry blinked, for a moment unsure if he heard his uncle correctly. He wanted him to open the box? Despite whatever magic was inside? Not only that, but Harry didn't even know if he could open the box. After all, whatever magic surrounded it most likely protected it against intruders. It was very possible that only a specific Potter could open the box.  
Still, not wanting to anger his uncle further, Harry carefully lifted the lit, shocked when the box opened immediately, revealing what appeared to be a series of letters. However, before Harry could grab any of the contents, his uncle wrenched it from his grip, looking inside, his nosy wife peering in over his shoulder. "....empty." His uncle said after a moment with a confused frown. Harry was just as confused, though for a much different reason. Could his uncle really not see the letters in the box?  
Confirming his suspicions, his uncle tipped the box upside down. Harry did his best not to watch the letters pour out onto the floor, but no one else seemed to notice them. with a final growl, Vernon tossed the box into the fireplace once more, relighting the fire. This time, the wooden artifact caught fire almost immediately and began to burn. Vernon turned to Harry, a cruel smile slowly appearing on his fat face. "Seems even dead family members don't care about you. Out of my sight, freak." he said, before going off to the kitchen to finish his paper, petunia in tow. Once they were out of his sight, Harry looked down upon the pile of letters. He watched in shock as a faint blue glow appeared around them, shimmering and slowly dissolving. Realizing that whatever charm that kept his aunt and uncle from seeing them must be breaking as the box burned, Harry hurriedly scooted up the pile, for once glad for his over sized shirt as he used it to hold that letters, rushing to his room. He hurriedly stashed them under his bed, then sat on it, waiting with baited breath. A few minutes later, he heard the lock click. Apparently his uncle was locking him in his room for the day. A few minutes later, Harry watched from his window as his family got into their car and drove off. Harry didn't know where they were all going, and frankly he didn't care. It was the best turn of events that could have possibly happened. Barely containing a smile, Harry reached into his secret compartment. His birthday wasn't for a few more days, but a few of his gifts had arrived early a few days before, specifically the cake from Mrs. Weasley. The teen had been waiting to eat any until a day like today when there was a good vhance he may get no food at all from his horrid family. Harry reached in, pulling out this years treat, an orange spice cake with a preservation charm on it, and grabbed himself a large portion before closing the hole back up and pulling out the letters from under his bed. Harry immediately realized that all of these letter's were from the same person. Each was addressed in small, neat handwriting to...  
"James Potter.... " Harry read softly. Luckily, every letter was dated, so it wasn't hard for Harry to find which letter to read first.  
September 1, 1996  
Dear James,  
I must confess that I was exceedingly surprised to receive your letter, and even more surprised by the means of which it was transported. I know that you have a flare for the dramatic, but was an owl really necessary? Where did you even get one? Surely it couldn't have flown all the way from England. Either way, it was a very sweet gesture. I hope that school goes well for you this year. You said that this was your final year at that fancy boarding school.  
I wish that our time together could have been longer. When I made the decision to study abroad for the summer, I never expected to meet someone like you. I hope that we can remain in contact for a long time to come, though I also realize that such things rarely happen with long distance separation.  
Nevertheless, I shall treasure my time knowing you while I have it. I want to know everything about how school goes for you. Do you pay any sports? What is your favorite class? Do you have any friends? A girlfriend?  
I want to know everything about you.  
As you instructed, I will tie this letter to this bird of prey's foot and trust that he will find you. I don't exactly see how that is possible, but you always were a conundrum to me.  
Warmest regards,  
Bruce Banner.  
Harry blinked in confusion, wondering who this Bruce Banner figure could be. He glanced at the return address on the other side, surprised to find it in America. Harry finished off his cake, drinking some of the water he also stored for emergencies, and opened the next letter, then the next, then the next. Harry wasn't sure how many he had gone through or what time it was when he came across a letter that peaked his interest far more than the other's, particularly because the addressing portion was no longer simply "Dear James."  
May 4, 1997  
My Dearest James,  
I, too, am in exceeding disbelief that we have known each other for nearly a full year. As promised, I will once again be spending my summer vacationing in England. However, there is something that I, too, need to tell you. Your secret in the last letter was a simple one. I don't care if you're from a wealthy family, and I understand that you needed to fake a girlfriend for appearances. I don't mind. Not when you included such a heartfelt confession. When I arrive in England on June 1 of this year, I will tell you my darkest secret, involving the grave mistake I mentioned in my earlier letters. If you can still accept me despite this terrible flaw, then I will gladly run away with you.  
I love you, James Potter. As a man of science, I always thought that perhaps love was only an illusion of the mind, a combination of chemicals and imagination. However, you have changed my opinion of that matter.  
With love,  
Bruce Banner.  
Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there, mouth gaping open as he stared at the letter. His father had been in love with a man? But what about his mother? They had married in September of the same year this letter was written!  
Harry's head was spinning. He looked around, finding that there was only one letter left. Hoping for answers, the boy hurriedly opened the letter, immediately noticing that this one was in a different handwriting.  
September 7, 1997  
Well, you've really done it this time, James. Find the love of your life and ruin everything because you didn't use protection. I understand why they did it, but this could have all been avoided had my parents just told me that I possessed the carrier gene. I suppose it is a good thing that Lily's mind is so unguarded. I can easily plant a few false memories to make her think this child is her's. A few glamours on the two of us and no one will know the difference. I have messed up so badly. I will never forgive myself for hurting Bruce, but it had to be done. If I hadn't, then my family would have never left us alone, and a life on the run is no place to raise a child. Our child. With any luck, the baby will look enough like me that no one will question it's parentage. My only regret is that Bruce will never know her. Or him. Whichever. As long as the baby's healthy. God, I'm rambling now. And how lame are we, writing a letter to ourself? Myself? I guess I won't have Bruce to correct my grammar anymore. I think of him every time I see Lily's eyes now. They are that same color green as Bruce's are when he does that thing. But then, you already knew that. Or, i already knew that. Gotta admit, that was quite the surprise. If I wasn't pregnant, I would have told him I was a wizard. But, as things are, I could never be with him, and telling him breaks magical law. I hate this. Whoever this child is, I don't care who they end up with. As long as the love and are loved in return, that's all that matters. Oh, god, if we even make it through this. I don't know anything about magical pregnancies, but I know they are dangerous. The world both worships and tortures people like me. I can only hope that our baby doesn't have the same gene. Apparently, its extremely recessive, only appearing once every four generations or so, and rare, only in a few bloodlines. However, that doesn't change my fear. If my baby is a male with his gene, not even Hogwarts will be safe for him. Merlin forbid someone like Dumbledore find out. I may work with the man, but I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. He's far too chaotic good for that, doing whatever it takes for the side of the "Light". I suppose that this will be the last letter ever placed in my little secret box. I wonder what our baby will look like. I miss you, Brucey.  
Sincerely,  
James Potter.  
Harry blinked several times. His head was spinning and, for once, he wished his stomach was empty so he wouldn't feel so nauseous. Phrases kept repeating in his head.  
"the love of your life" "carrier gene" "plant a few false memories" "no one will know the difference" "Our child" "no one will question it's parentage" "Bruce will never know" "male pregnancy" "same color green as Bruce's" "magical pregnancies" "love f my life" "hope that our baby doesn't have the same gene" "not even Hogwarts will be safe for him" "Merlin forbid someone like Dumbledore find out" "don't trust him as far as I can throw him" "carrier gene" "I wonder what our baby will look like. I miss you, Brucey."  
"Bruce Banner..." Harry said the name aloud. His father. His real father. His father might be alive.  
Harry stared down at the letters once more, before gathering them up and stashing them in his secret cupboard. He was going to find out who his father was.  
For the first time in his forever, Harry Potter had hope for a real family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Harry's life is fucked up. Let's see what little Brucey's up to, shall we?


	3. Calming Topaz

Bruce Banner stared out the window of Stark Tower, deep in thought. He always got like this around this on rainy summer nights. They brought back memories of a summer so long ago. A boy, a pub, a love lost in time.  
"Earth to Bruce Banner. Come in Bruce Banner." came a voice from much too close behind him. Bruce simply rolled his eyes, too used to the antics of Tony Stark to even be surprised anymore.  
"Not now, Tony." the scientist said in irritation.  
"Aw, did I interrupt somebody's brooding?" said Tony in that voice people usually use when talking to a baby. Bruce pushed him away, making his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, sighing when he found nothing readily made to eat. "Why is it we never have leftover anything?" he mumbled.  
"Because anything we make isn't worth saving and when we order food we eat it all." Tony replied, still too close behind him.  
"It was a rhetorical question!" Bruce snapped, slamming the fridge.  
"Woah, there, good doctor. Don't Hulk out on me over a joke." Tony said, putting his hands up in defense.  
Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and counting to ten. No, Tony was not making him angry enough to Hulk out. He was, however, irritating him enough to give him a migraine. "I'll be in the lab." He mumbled, walking off, leaving Tony to make whatever experimental monstrosity would pass for his night to make dinner. While none of the people currently living in the tower could cook, Tony was by far the worst. On Mondays, Steve usually just made something simple like hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, basically only things that didn't require very much cooking. At his actual house, Clint only ever got organic, home made health foods. Therefore, when at the tower, his food usually just consisted of disgusting amounts of grease, butter, cheese, and bacon, every Tuesday. That is barely an exaggeration. On Wednesday, Natasha at least tried to cook, but her food always ended up burnt because she would turn the heat up too high and rush through everything. Thursday, Thor, when he was in the tower, still hadn't quite figured out what food was meant for which meal and what went together. Therefore, they ended up with things like s'mores poptarts topped with anchovies. Friday, Bruce had completely given up. On his nights, they ordered food. Case closed. Saturday was Tony's day. And everyone dreaded it. Tony Stark would spend ridiculous amounts of money on the most expensive ingredients the store had, cook it in a way that seemed like it might possibly make sense, and served up things like caviar pancakes with truffle infused maple syrup for breakfast, or lobster wrapped in steak and covered in balsamic glaze and random herbs with fancy names no one could pronounce. Doesn't sound too bad in theory, awful in practice. Sunday was supposed to be leftover day, but because there never were any, it was another day to order food.  
Bruce sighed, once again hit by the realization that he would never have anything closer to a child than Tony Stark. He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away. Now in his early forties, Bruce could feel the growing instinctual desperation to have a family of his own. Unfortunately, the same radiation that gave him his power, that terrible green monster locked within him, also also left him basically infertile, his DNA too warped to produce a human child. Besides that, his life was far too dangerous for him to ever adopt one.  
Bruce sat down, closing his eyes and picturing the way his life could have turned out if it hadn't been for that accident. James may have never left him. Sure, he claimed that the Hulk had nothing to do with it, but Bruce couldn't believe the answer he had given, that James had just suddenly realized he was straight. James Potter may have been a lot of things, but straight certainly wasn't one of them. The two of them could have lived a happy, quiet life until the gay marriage laws were passed and then they could have married and lived happily ever after. Maybe adopt a couple kids and a dog or something. They could have been happy.  
And Bruce could have gotten his family.  
The scientist sighed. Unfortunately, these were only dreams, dreams not meant to be.  
"Dinner's ready!" Tony called from the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts. Bruce stood, walking to the kitchen, frowning when a repulsive smell hit his nose."I made Cote de Boeuf topped with European white truffle and a Pule-Chocopologie sauce." Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes. Instead, this was the life he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context sake, the food tony made at the end would be worth over $5,000 per serving. Very expensive steak topped with very expensive mushrooms, but then with a sauce made from very expensive cheese and very expensive chocolate,


	4. Amethyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Harry we go.

Harry kept his head down as he walked along the road. His aunt and Uncle had only sent him to the store to get a couple of groceries, but the boy needed to do something first. Before anyone he knew might see him, the boy ducked into the public library, hurrying to the computers as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. He signed on to one, thankful that the computer's didn't require an actual password, and opened google. "Bruce Banner." he typed quickly, tapping his foot, filled with anxiety as the search slowly loaded. The moment it finished, Harry pressed the first link and printed the entire article, not even paying attention to what it said. He rushed to the printer, grabbing the paper and shoving it in his pocket, before leaving the library, not even bothering to log out of the computer.  
Later that day, Harry arrived back at the house with the bag of groceries for that night's dinner. As he set to work making the bangers and mash, boiling potatoes and frying up sausages and gravy, the paper in Harry's pocket felt as if it weighed nearly as much as Dudley. By the time he set out the plates for each of his family member's, Harry was about ready to give up this whole thing. Yes, his father may be alive, but he didn't even know Harry existed. Not only that, but he was most likely in America. How was Harry supposed to get to America without his aunt and uncle knowing?  
"So, Dudley. Have you decided what you would like to do for your birthday this year?" Uncle Vernon said in an overly loud voice, and Harry knew that it was so Harry would be able to hear them, rubbing in the fact that he knew damn well they wouldn't be doing anything for his own birthday.  
Dudley, meanwhile, smiled, giving this a lot of thought and staring Harry right in the eyes as he answered. "Can we go to the beach this year, father?" he asked, grinning. Harry's ears perked up.  
"Of course, my boy!" He said with a fond laugh.  
Petunia's smile became even more snobby, if that was even possible. "Why don't we go next month, Dudley dearest. The we can have a big party for you and all your friend's here tomorrow and a nice family vacation next month around the same time. It will be like having two birthdays!" she said in a high, excited voice.  
Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that they were only doing this to make him feel inferior, celebrating Dudley's birthday twice and ignoring Harry's altogether, but this would be perfect. If this beach trip was like the last one, they would be leaving him with Mrs. Fig for the entire trip. While risky, it wouldn't be very hard for Harry to convince her that the Dursley' were picking him up early so that she wouldn't call them when he left. That crazy old woman was lucky if she could tell the difference between her cat's food and her own. Frankly, given some of the things she has fed him while he's there, he's actually not so sure she can.  
Harry was sent to his room as the Dursley' ate dinner, wondering if all this was really all worth it. For all he knew, his birth dad could be a hardened criminal. After all, he did come up exceedingly quickly in the google search.  
When Harry reached his room, he immediately sat on his bed, unfolding the article. It appeared to be just a basic information sheet.  
Bruce Banner  
Birth Date: December 18, 1969  
Physicist  
Graduated with Honors from Harvard University  
Current Residency: Stark Tower, 200 Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York, 10026  
Harry could hardly believe it. His dad was a scientist? He graduated from Harvard with Honors? He was related to an absolute genius! Perhaps that was why he was so good at school until he was forced to do poorly because of his cousin being an imbecile and his aunt and uncle not allowing Harry to exceed him in any way. However, while seeing his accomplishments was amazing, what really caught Harry's eye was the picture of him. Bruce Banner himself looked strangely angry in the picture, in a way that made Harry a little afraid of the man. After all, usually, when people got angry, they tended to take it out on him. What if his dad was just as bad as the Dursley's? Was that even possible? Could he be worse?  
However, looking into his eyes, Harry got his answer. There, lying in the face of the handsome, dark haired man, were two bright emerald eyes, brighter even than Lily Potter's, that matched Harry's perfectly. No man with eyes that beautiful, eyes that once captured James Potter's heart so entirely, could ever be truly evil, right?  
Still, Harry was hesitant. The thought of being rejected by another family member was almost physically painful.  
Just then, Harry heard the doorknob jiggle. He hurriedly thrust the paper under his pillow, looking up to see his uncle. "Hello, boy~." he said in that falsely kind voice he used every night.  
Harry's expression hardened, his mind made up.  
He was getting out of this house.


	5. Aquamarine, Stone of the Sea and Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEDICATION:  
> That's right, pretty people.  
> This chapter is dedicated to Rosa, a reader without an actual ao3 account, but a fun fan none the less.  
> This chicky commented in SPANISH, y'all. My precious little 'merican heart can hardly believe that my fan base has spread to include people outside my small town world.  
> We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.  
> Well.... Actually from Pennsylvania, but I digress.  
> I'd like to thank the academy!  
> And all the little people.  
> Dopey, Doc, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, and let's not forget precious little Grumpy.  
> I have decided that, for the future, if someone leave a comment that I find truly inspirational, I shall dedicate that chapter to that reader.  
> Gracias, Rosa!  
> Good luck, all yinz freaks, geeks, chics, and may your eyebrows be on fleek.

A few weeks later, as Harry contemplated recent events, the boy could hardly believe his luck. For once in his life, his plans appeared to be working perfectly.  
The weeks passed without issue, Dudley's party going off without a hitch while Harry was forced to serve he and his equally rude friends absord amounts if pizza, ice cream, and cake, only to be made to sit and watch them eat afterwards.  
The days that followed involved little more than Harry's usual routine of chores during the day and his uncle's nightly visits, Harry ever thankful for the man's low sexual stamina and his pride not allowing him to yet take Viagra.  
As he sat on the couch a few hours after his family had dropped him off on the day of their vacation, appearing to simply be pleasantly engrossed in scrapbooks of Mrs. Fig's cats, he suddenly looked up, saying "I'll get it!" And rushed into the kitchen. Mrs. Fig watched in confusion as Harry picked up the phone, for a moment wondering if her hearing was failing her as the boy spoke, for she had not heard it ring. "Fig residence.... Oh, Hi Uncle Vernon...... Oh my, is he alright.....? Alright. I'll be ready. Bye." Harry hung up the phone, knowing very well that he hadn't been talking to anything more than a dial tone. However, as he entered the living room once more, a look of concern on his face, he was inwardly pleased to find that Mrs. Fig appeared to buy his little ruse. "That was my Uncle. Apparently, my cousin started feeling sick on the way to the beach. It's probably just car sickness, but you know how overprotective they are of us." He said in the tone of an innocant and admiring child. Years of needing to suppress his "freakishness" had turned Harry into quite the actor.  
"Oh, the poor dear." Mrs. Fig said with a troubled look.  
Harry nodded. "They decided to postpone the vacation until Dudley is feeling better. They'll be by to pick me up again tonight." He said, and the woman nodded.  
"Well, if that is what they feel is best." She said as Harry returned to his previous spot on the couch, inquiring about the circumstances of which she found her prized white Persian cat, Duchess. It was, of course, a story that Harry had heard a hundred times before, but one that he knew would make Mrs. Fig change the subject so as not to dwell on his cousin's condition, Harry not wanting to risk leaving any plot holes that would expose his falsities.  
It had taken Mrs. Fig a few more feline tales than he had originally anticipated, but eventually the elderly woman's mildly croaking voice lulled herself to sleep. Harry carefully placed a blanket over her before gathering the backpack he had brought with him and making his way into the kitchen. The bag was exceedingly old, Dudley's old bag from first grade that Harry was only given so he could bring extra clothes with him on occasions such as this when his family did not want to risk anyone questioning his care.  
Harry had placed one extra set of clothes and a pair of pajamas in one compartment, happy that his family did not care enough to question the lightness of the bag as the boy should have taken clothes sufficient for a week. Now, he used the excess free space in the larger sipper compartment to grab a few cans of food, making sure to only grab ones with easy open tabs such as spaghettios. Why the woman even had cans of such food, Harry may never know, considering that he never saw her eat anything but canned tuna or similar food that looked far too much like cat food for comfort. Still, he did feel bad about stealing from her. On the bright side what he was taking was less than what she would end up loosing if she had taken care of him for a full week. Harry added a few bottles of water before zipping up his bag and quietly sneaking out the door.  
It was just about sunset, a light breeze ruffling through the young man's slightly long hair as he fought to recall the rules for his previous mode of emergency transportation. "There is always the Knight Bus, which appears whenever a witch or wizard in urgent need of transportation sticks out their wand arm at the kerb."  
Harry nodded his head, sticking out his arm and waiting.  
Harry had to almost immediately retract his arm for fear of loosing it as the large purple bus suddenly appeared at his side. He stepped back quickly as the doors opened, revealing the familiar faces of Ernie and Stan. "Hello again." Harry said with a nod, smiling a bit at fond memories as he got on the bus for the second time in his almost 15 years.  
Stan nodded in reply, looking behind Harry curiously. "Is that backpack all you have? Last time it was like you was moving in." The greasy man said, returning his gaze to Harry. The Raven haired boy thought for a moment, considering this. Indeed, if he left now, he would not have any of his school books, his broom, anything. And yet, perhaps that was for the best. After all, if his father did accept him, he doubted he would be returning to Hogwarts. In fact, perhaps he could just... Leave it all behind?  
Harry's eyes widened a bit at the thought. After all, the young Potter heir never did want to be a hero. From the moment Hagrid first found him, he had insisted that he was just Harry. And yet, from the moment he first entered the wizarding world, it was the one thing no one would allow him to be. Here he was, at the ultimate crossroad, a choice that could change the fate of the entire world at his finger tips.  
He thought of all he would be leaving behind. Of parental figures like Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. And yet, where had any of them been as he struggled through life? Even after hearing of his abuse from the twins a few summers past, the Wesley's had not taken him in, had not contacted the ministry. Surely there were laws against child abuse in the wizarding world?  
Sirius had practically abandoned him for the sake of revenge, and Remus never even attempted to contact him. Yes, one ended up in Azkaban and the other was a werewolf, but even when Sirius escaped, his goal was never to reunite with Harry. It was simply to kill Pettigrew, and Remus had barely so much as written a letter since he resigned from teaching. Meanwhile, Hagrid was so firmly in Dumbledore's pocket that Harry doubted if the half giant wouldn't kill him on the spot if the old man ordered it.  
And that was another matter entirely. Dumbledore had known of everything that had happened to him all these years. He had to of. Why had he never helped Harry?  
And then there were his friends, Ron and Hermione being the closest ones. Yet how often had Ron turned on him for the sake of jealousy, or Hermione contradicted him at every turn for the sake of her own morals and intellectual prowess. While they appeared to truly care for him, Harry couldn't help but feel that their actions were strangely sycophantic. And then there was Ginny, who appeared to have gotten over her school girl crush on him, going to the Yule Ball last year with Neville. He supposed that Luna appeared a genuine friend, as did Fred and George, but none of them had written him all summer. When it came down to it, Harry had no reason to stay in the magical world. Why should he, a mere child, fight a war that he, frankly, had nothing to do with? He wasn't given an option on what side to take and allowed to see for himself who was right and wrong. He was simply born into a fight that, frankly, wasn't his, and yet expected to win it. He hadn't even known of such a war for the first eleven years of his life, or about magic in general!  
He had released Hedwig before the vacation began and, if she for whatever reason couldn't find him in America, Harry had no doubt that his one, true friend would be able to take care of herself.  
His mind made up, Harry finally met Stan's eyes.  
"Yes, sir. This is all."  
Later that day, Harry had gone to Gringotts bank and withdrawn a sizable chunk of money from his account, requesting that the goblins convert it to muggle money for him as he did so. That done, Harry once again sought the assistance of the night bus, this time taking him to the nearest airport. He purchased a one way ticket to New York City in American, hardly surprised to find that they had a seat available as it was a week day.  
Harry was mesmerized by the plane ride, staring out the window nearly the entire time. He had always loved flying, but this experience was so different than any method he had ever experienced. It wasn't quite as freeing as a broom, nor as thrilling as a hippogriff. Instead, the sensation was more peaceful, being able to relax and rely on the abilities of another to take him through the familiar aura of the skies. If he did end up living out the rest of his days as a muggle, he thought, perhaps he would become a pilot.  
Much of the journey was spent souring over the ocean, a sight Harry had never seen before. The vast expanse of water filled him with amazement and a twinge of fear, recalling his inability to swim and the events of the previous year. Still, it was a wonder to behold.  
Now, Harry stood in the bustling airport, careful to keep his backpack close. This was New York, after all. Harry had heard how easily things could get stolen in a place like this. Suddenly, his stomach growled as Harry realized he hadn't eaten in well over 24 hours.  
The young man sat at a nearby table, taking a moment to think as he pulled out a can of spaghettios, popping the lid and basically drinking the room temperature canned pasta dish. No one even spared him a glance, all having seen much stranger things than a poorly dressed teenager drinking Chef Boyardee.  
Harry debated his next move carefully. He knew he originally had 7 days before his aunt and uncle returned from their trip. After the plane ride and trip from Mrs. Fig's, he now suspected he had about five days until they returned. Even then, he wasn't exactly sure if they would care. Best case scenario, they ignored the situation completely and pretend he never existed in the first place.  
Harry sighed, standing and tossing the now empty can of spaghettios into the trash can and exiting the building. Harry subtly hid in the shadow of a nearby building, pulling out his wand and holding it flat in his hand "Tnagivan." he mumbled softly, watching as his wand slowly turned in his hand. The spell was a simple one that would point him towards whatever location he was thinking of. Of course, it did have to be a relatively permanent, still fixture, and the wand would only point the path in a straight line. Harry had found the spell the previous day while in Diagonal Alley, as well as finding out that America did not have the same magic detection wards that much of magical Europe did.  
Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket, making sure to keep the direction he needed to go in his mind as he walked around buildings and waited for crosswalk lights. The boy kept his eyes mostly on the sidewalk, always having hated large crowds and having trouble meeting stranger's eyes, naturally taking on a more submissive appearance.  
When Harry did finally look up, beholding for the first time Star Tower, the boy realized that he hardly would have needed the navigation spell. The tall structure towered over much of the city, and he could recall spotting it from the airport, not realizing that this was his destination.  
Feeling mildly intimidated, Harry took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before he pushed the door open, entering the building.  
Harry tried his best not to be too extremely awestruck by the lavishness of the building's lobby as he approached the front desk where an attractive red haired woman was typing on a computer. Suddenly, Harry felt very nervous, unsure of himself. After all, he was about to meet his father, possibly the only chance for a real family that he would ever have. "E-Excuse me." The young man stuttered out, voice wavering with his lack of confidence. "I-I'm looking for-"  
"Tony Stark?" The woman asked with a sigh, her no nonsense tone throwing Harry off.  
"What?" He asked in surprise.  
"Is this a business or personal issue." The woman asked, not even sparing a glance for the young man as she opened the necessary files. Hardly a day went by that someone wasn't looking for Tony for some reason, always with the not-so-hidden agenda of gaining money, whether it be a business issue such as accusing him of stealing their ideas or even to be the real Tony Stark and her boss being an imposter or a personal issue like being a long lost relative.  
"U-Um...." Harry thought for a moment. "Personal. But-"  
The woman cut the stuttering boy off, hardly even buying the shy act. She had seen it all before. "What is the matter of your issue? Paternity? Other family related issue? Molestation? Also, please note that all requests for autographs and fanclub appearances are not personal issues."  
Harry blinked in confusion. "I-I-..."' Hardy shook his head, gathering his thoughts as the woman finally let him speak. "Paternity. But-"  
Pepper wasn't listening, already printing the necessary form and thrusting it at the child, still not looking. "Please fill out this form. Mr. Stark is not here at the moment, but we do have his DNA on hand for these procedures, as they are... Frequent." She said, emphasizing the word. Tony averaged over 300 paternity claims a year, all of which had been proven false. She had no doubt that this one would be as well, so wasn't even going to attempt to give this child, if he even really was one, for many baby faced adults had also made such claims, the time of day. She secretly hoped this imposter would simply leave and stop wasting everyone's time.  
Harry sighed in exasperation. "I'm not Tony Stark's son!" He finally said, startling the woman enough to make her look up. "S-sorry..." Harry said, blushing lightly at the sudden outburst. "But... I'm not Tony Stark's son, ma'am. I'm Bruce Banner's." He said, still barely lifting his eyes from his work out shoes.  
Pepper only rolled her eyes at this, still not paying much attention to the boy, who never once met her gaze. "That is impossible. Bruce Banner cannot have children." She said firmly.  
"Please, ma'am, I've come such a long way...." Indeed, Pepper did notice the boy's accent, but that could be easily faked. "I just want at least a paternity test. If it comes up negative, then I promise I will leave and never bother you again." He said firmly.  
Pepper kept her expression neutral, refusing to budge. "Even if I were to agree to this, Mr. Banner is not in at the moment. If you will come back tomorrow-"  
"But I have nowhere else to go! At least let me wait in the Lobby. I won't move from this area, I swear. There are probably security cameras on it anyways, so you'd know if I did...." While the argument had started out firm and exasperated, Harry's confidence once again wavered by the end, fear slowly gripping his already fragile heart.  
Pepper, meanwhile, was studying the boy with a peculiar look. The strange thing was, while he really would never pass for Tony's son, he might pass for Bruce's. The same shy mannerisms, even more so than his potential father, combined with his sudden outburst in which Pepper could almost swear she felt the very air shift around them as if by some strange power. Additionally, the boys messy dark hair did remind her of Bruce. However, it was only when the boy found enough courage to look up and meet the woman's eyes that a small gasp left her lips. Those eyes, impossibly bright green, matched those of a certain green monster's to a T.  
Maybe....  
No. No, it was impossible. Bruce was like a brother to her. She would not risk getting his hopes up just to have them crushed by some foolish kid looking for a quick buck.  
".... I'm sorry, but I am going to have to ask you to leave. This is your last warning, or I am afraid I wil have to call security." She said, mind set.  
Harry, feeling his heart slowly shatter, stood frozen for a moment. His head nodded on it's own accord as he exited the building, leaving his hopes trailing behind him.


	6. Amber for Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning: This chapter does include some non consensual fingering

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been sitting on the bench located just down the street from Stark Tower. Of course, no one questioned the perfectly still boy, assuming he was probably waiting for someone or something of the like. However, by the time Harry had once again gathered his emotions enough to be cognitive, it was nearly dark, the sun slowly sinking beyond a horizon that Harry could not see for all the building's in the way. The boy sighed as he slowly stood up. At this point in his life, he was used to disappointment.  
"Well..." He thought to himself, "at least my father didn't technically reject me."  
With that thought in mind, Harry was able to relieve his depression just enough to realize that he would need to find somewhere to rest for the night. What he did after tonight could wait until tomorrow. He did, of course, bring enough money to at least survive relatively comfortably until he was able to find himself a stable job and a suitable place to live. It would be difficult, but he would manage.  
The young man walked down the road, deep in thought as he kept an eye out for a hotel. However, he did not notice the eyes watching him from the shadows just ahead, too focused on his goal.  
Harry gasped as he was suddenly pulled into a dark alley, too shocked for a moment to even fight as he was spun around to face a tall man who absolutely reeked of alcohol. "Help...." Harry tried to speak out, his voice no more than a soft squeak in his fear. He closed his eyes tightly, swallowing hard as his panic slowly grew unbearable. Suddenly, the teen wished more than ever that he was with his father.  
***  
Bruce hummed softly to himself as he walked briskly down the road. Today was Friday, his night to cook, but obviously he wasn't even attempting to do so. However, he was starting to feel bad about not doing any work whatsoever on his nights, and therefore had made the decision to go and physically get the Chinese food. Currently, he had four large bags of assorted Asian dishes across his arms, the avenger's strength making the task easy. However, just as he was getting to the chorus of "Defying Gravity", he heard a soft sound up ahead. Bruce frowned, for a moment unsure how that was possible. For some reason, he could pinpoint the exact location of the small sound, a small, unfamiliar alley nearly a city block away, but that was impossible. He had no super hearing of any kind, and he wasn't actually even sure if such an alley existed, as he was not often in that part of town; it was the entrance to a rather rough part of New York, apartment complexes mostly owned by drug dealers and other petty criminals.  
However, unable to shake off the feeling that he simply had to follow the sound, Bruce picked up the pace, the plastic bags crinkling softly with every quick step.  
***  
Finally regaining his composure, Harry opened his eyes, opening his mouth to scream, only to have it covered by a large hand behind him. The boy was then dragged further into the alley by the two men, the more muscular of the two keeping his hand wrapped so tightly over Harry's mouth that for a moment the teen was afraid he would break his jaw.  
"Just shut up and stay quiet and Maybe we'll go easy on ya." The fat man said as they both kneeled behind a dumpster, holding Harry between them, leaning against the chest of the man behind him. Harry wasn't sure if the foul odor was coming from the trash or the man. Probably both.  
Harry tried desperately to kick away from the men, but to no avail as the man in front of him grabbed the hem of his pants, yanking then down sharply. Harry wiggled more as the man chuckled. "No underwear? My, my, you really are just a pretty little slut." He said.  
Harry tried to protest. In actuality, he only didn't wear underwear because he didn't want to wear his cousin's old ones. However, for the first time in his life, he wished he had. He hated when his uncle said things like that, making him believe he was nothing but a dirty whore, using things like his disgust for Dudley's briefs or his actually giving good head so his uncle would get it over with as rationalizations for Harry being nothing but a filthy slut. Deep down, Harry knew it wasn't true. Still, that knowledge didn't stop the humiliation as tears sprung to his eyes, letting out a soft whimper they was muffled by the man's hand.  
The man in front of him suddenly grabbed Harry by his calves, pushing them up until his knees touched his forehead, the one behind him wrapping his free arm around them, pinning the boy in place. The young wizard could hardly breath in that position, though his natural flexibility and agility from being a seeker in quidditch made it so it wasn't necessarily painful. However, the sharp intrusion to his anus was.  
Harry's screams we're muffled as the man shoved one fat finger roughly into Harry's practically untouched hole completely dry, moaning as he felt how tight it was. "Hey Frank! Seems our little Slut's a virgin." The man said, driving his finger the entire way in on the word slut, making Harry let out a high pitched cry of pain.  
"What a pretty voice you have. Almost like a little girl." The man behind him spoke again.  
"Do you want your little sissy cunt fucked, baby girl?" Frank said in a taunting voice.  
Harry closed his eyes tightly, his anxiety rising as he tried and failed to think of a way out of this. Because of his uncle's treatment of him, it was near impossible for any type of accidental magic to result from sexual assault, as any would only make things worse for Harry at home, and in the position he was he would need to perform it both wandless and wordless in order to get away, skills of which he had neither. Headlights from a passing car made Harry realize then that no one could see or hear them from their space in the dark alley. Harry's mouth was covered and Frank and his friend we're speaking too quietly, careful not to get caught, clearly experienced with this.  
Just as Harry was about to accept his fate, he heard a voice behind Frank call loudly, interrupting the pair.  
***  
As Bruce rounded the corner from which he was certain he heard the sound, he was utterly shocked to see....  
Nothing.  
Just an old dumpster.  
The man sighed, shaking his head, figuring he must be going crazy.  
However, just as Bruce was about to turn away, headlights from a passing car cast light upon the dumpster. Bruce frowned, for a moment believing he saw moving shapes through the few inches of briefly illuminated space just below it. Slowly, the man set down the bags of food and entered the alley, gasping in horror when he saw two large shadows holding a small shape between them. Even in darkness it was clear what was going on. "Hey!" He called loudly, gritting his teeth in anger, fighting back the green monster's inside, confident he could deal with this without him.  
That is, until all three figures turned to him, the moonlight illuminating the face of the smallest figure just enough for Bruce to see large green eyes, shining brightly with tears.  
Bruce felt something inside him snap.  
\---  
Wet.  
Cold water slowly roused Bruce from his unconscious state.  
Sirens.  
Bruce knew that sound.  
Why?  
Green eyes.  
Another sound.  
Focus, Bruce.  
That voice.  
"........ner!"  
"....anner!"  
"Mr. Banner, wake up!"  
That day.....  
"Wake up, Mr. Banner~." Bruce slowly opened his eyes. He was in a cozy apartment in London. It wasn't much, but it had the necessary amenities. "Come on! Are you going to sleep the entire day?"  
Bruce grumbled, rolling over. The soft sheets seemed to pull him deeper into sleep. Where had James even found such soft bedding? Regardless, it was the best gift he had ever received.  
"Come oooon!" A playful voice called, shaking him violently. James was So lucky he was so cute. Far too cute to ever make Bruce angry. Not that James would mind, apparently. He had taken the big green guy surprisingly well.  
..... In more ways than one.  
Bruce suddenly gasped, sitting up straight. "Oh my God!" He said, gripping his hair.  
James giggled. "Hello, darling~." The Raven haired man said.  
"The bar..."  
"Yes."  
"No!"  
"Yes! The man hit on me, you got jealous, I got you back here, you were still angry, the man followed us, you hulked out, he ran screaming, we had sex~."  
Bruce by this point had his own mouth covered, screaming into his hand.  
James only laughed, hugging his lover. "Hey, it's alright. They have creams to tighten that back up~."  
Bruce shook his head. "James this is serious! I could have hurt you! I could have... I could have killed you!"  
"But you didn't." James said, gently taking his lover into his hands. "Bruce, I love you. And you love me. That's how I know you could never hurt me, and neither could the Hulk." With that, James slowly leaned in, kissing the scientist's lips.  
When he pulled away, Bruce looked deeply into those beautiful hazel eyes. "I love you, James Potter." He said softly.  
James smiled brightly. "I love you, Bruce Banner."  
".... Banner."  
"....Mr. Banner....."  
"....Mr. Banner, please wake up!"  
Bruce's eyes flew open with a gasp.  
Wet.  
Sirens.  
Bright green eyes.  
Bruce sat up suddenly, looking around. Rain poured down onto his bare chest. Only a very shredded and stretched pair of pants remained on the man's body as he looked around, panting heavily. His eyes finally fell on the boy in front of him.  
That face....  
"....James?"  
His cheeks were softer, rounder.  
Younger?  
His hair wasn't as wild.  
Almost like Bruce.  
His features were so dainty, almost feminine. The boy was beautiful.  
Green eyes....  
"N-No, I'm Harry..." The boy said, looking down submissively.  
Bruce frowned, looking around, now seeing the Carnage that the hulk had left behind. The two men who had held down Harry previously now laid unconscious upon the cement, the rain pouring down on their still forms. However, the ever so slight movement of their breathing showed Bruce they were alive.  
Unfortunately.  
Bruce blinked, again turning to the boy. "Are you alright, kid?" He asked the child.  
Harry nodded, though his eyes looked mildly glassy. "Y-Yeah..." He said, then looked at the forms of the unconscious men again. He swallowed, his eyes going wide, a soft whimper leaving his lips before the child suddenly collapsed.  
Bruce caught him easily. "Kid!" He called, but got no response. Bruce swore under his breath. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here." He said, carefully lifting the boy bridal style. His limp form appeared to weigh much less than it should, even for his small stature. "Shit, kid, don't you ever eat?" Bruce mumbled as he grabbed the Chinese bags and again made his way towards Stark Tower. Thinking fast, he hailed a cab so he wouldn't draw as much attention. Of course, seeing a half dressed Man holding a small child dressed in clothes far too large for him and an absurd amount of Chinese food enter his cab did get a few strange looks from the driver, but it was better than the alternative.  
Bruce tipped the cabby extra for not asking questions once they arrived at their destination, quickly carrying the boy and the food into Stark Tower.  
"Bruce!" Pepper cried in shock, eyes going wide when she saw the child and Bruce's state of dress, then flashing with recognition when she remembered seeing that same boy earlier that day. "Bruce, you have a lot of explaining to d-"  
"Not now, Pepper!" Bruce snapped, rushing to the elevator. Pepper looked highly offended, but Bruce wasn't Tony. He wasn't some overgrown child that Pepper needed to control and care for.  
However, the child in Bruce's arms did require his care, and fast.  
"Hold on, Harry..." Bruce said, not sure why he cared so much for the boy. Or how he found him for that matter.  
Bruce had so many questions milling about his brain.  
Unfortunately, none would be answered until the boy awoke.


	7. Curse of Opal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a few days to update. I haven't had much free time the past few days. The first time I attempted to update, I was at work and was called off my break early because there was a badly tripping out barefoot homeless man peeing while trying to sneak inside, yes at the same time, it was A LOT of urine (I'm a security officer at PNC park. Anyone a Pittsburgh Pirate's fan? No? Didn't think so. There's a reason why their home park's main security force is 14 people, one of which is a 19 year old girl who looks more 15 and is about as intimidating as the black kitten that keeps trying to step on my keyboard. NO, FEYLAN! BAD!) and the second time I was on the bus ride home from work and got motion sick.  
> Ah, working in the city. Gotta love it.  
> Anyways, dedicating this to Amber.  
> I'm sorry, girl, I don't remember why.  
> But still! It's dedicated to you!  
> I just... you know, I was a little distracted when I thought up the dedication.  
> Blame the trippy peeing barefoot homeless man.  
> Seriously, for a second, I thought the zombie apocalypse was starting or something.  
> Anyways, ENJOY THE NEXT CHAPTER!

Bruce gently laid the small boy in his arms down upon the lab table, then turned to grab a pair of scissors from his desk. His lab wasn't the ideal place to examine or treat anyone, especially a young child, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He cut the boy's clothing away, not really worrying about the fact that the oversized rags would be completely unwearable for the foreseeable future. The things could hardly be considered clothes. Not that Bruce would ever say anything to the child, of course. Bruce frowned as he tossed the fabric in the trash, aware that the boy had said a name. What was it again? Harold? No, that's right. Harry.  
"If you do ever have a child, what would you name it?"  
"Boy or girl."  
"Hm.... Boy, for now."  
Hazel eyes, looking up at the starry night sky in thought. "Harry."  
Bruce shook his head of the memory. "Not the time, Bruce..." he mumbled to himself. He was already struggling with his emotions due to the time of year. The fact that this boy looked so much like James Potter was just making things so much worse.  
Bruce sighed, stealing himself as he once again turned towards the child on his lab table, immediately gasping in horror as he took in his bare body for the first time. Bruce had known that the child was malnourished, but he never expected his body to be so positively skeletal. Bruce could clearly see each of the boy's ribs, and his arms and legs were like sticks.  
Additionally, a series of bruises littered the boy's entire body, some nearly healed while others appeared to be no more than a day or so old.  
Shaking his head, Bruce quickly took the child's vitals and performed a rape kit, wanting to get that part over with before the boy woke up, as any instruments near the boy's privater areas could cause some complications. He didn't look to be any more than 12 at the absolute most. Why on earth was such a small boy wandering the streets of New York at night?  
"And why is he British?" Bruce said in exasperation, wracking his brains for an answer.  
"Oh my god, Bruce, you can't just ask people why they're British!" Tony said in his best snobby white chick voice.  
Bruce sighed. "Not now, Tony. I don't have time."  
"Excuse me, sir, but there is Always time for a Mean Girls reference."  
Bruce shook his head, writing down his final test results on a clipboard. "Why do you even know that movie?"  
"Too many references made by young people. I had to find out what all the hype was about. Let us not forget, though, that you understood the reference. Why do You know that movie?" Tony said, crossing his arms with an accusing look.  
Bruce still didn't look up from the clipboard. "Someone asked Thor if he wore pink on Wednesdays. He didn't want to watch the movie alone and I was the only one around. Now, will you leave? I'm a little busy at the moment."  
It was only now that Tony finally looked down at the lab table. "Jesus Christ, Bruce, who the hell is he?" Tony asked, almost falling backwards in shock.  
"Apparently his name is Harry. I don't know anything else about him." Except that he looks exactly like the ex love of his life and his eyes set the big green guy into some weird mama bear mode, Bruce's mind chimed in.  
"What is he doing here, Bruce?" Bruce looked up to see Pepper storming into the room, apparently having grown sick of being left in the dark since Bruce and Harry first arrived at the tower.  
Bruce sighed. "I found him being attacked. And... hulked out."  
Pepper's eyes went wide with fear. "Holy shit, Bruce, did you kill the attacker?" Tony asked, worried about the media.  
Bruce shook his head. "No...." the edges of his eyes went slightly green, "though I wish I would have..."  
"Bruce!" Tony said, his tone warning.  
"You weren't there, Tony! Neither of you were. You didn't see what they were doing to him, hear what they were planning to do-" Harry whimpered softly, and Bruce lowered his voice. "....You weren't there. You didn't see his pain. His fear. He's just a kid. I don't know why he was out there or where he came from, but judging by his physical health, he can't have been treated very well as it is in his life. He doesn't need anyone else coming along and making things worse. So, yes, if I could go back in time and kill those men, I would."  
Bruce turned away from the other two, grabbing a spare set of clothes he usually kept in the lab for when he hulked out and carefully slipping them onto the raven haired boy.  
"....He can't stay here, Bruce." Pepper finally said, surprising every conscious man in the room.  
"Why not?" Tony asked, almost defensively, before Bruce could even fully process the statement. After all, it was his house.  
Pepper glanced at Bruce, clearly hesitant about whatever it was she was about to say because of him, but one look from the man showed that she wouldn't be able to get away with just not telling him. Pepper sighed, conceding. "Because he's a con artist of sorts."  
Tony and Bruce both stared at the woman for a moment, then at each other, to Harry, back to each other, then back to Pepper, both wearing looks of utter disbelief. "This malnourished, clearly abused child who has just been assaulted in an alley is a con artist?" Bruce said in disbelief, almost taking offense to the notion.  
"Yes!" The ginger replied, sounding exasperated.  
"How do you know, Pepper? You sound pretty damn sure, and that's a serious accusation." Tony chimed in, crossing his arms.  
Pepper sighed. "He was in here earlier. He claimed that he was Bruce's son."  
For a moment, only silence followed the statement. ".....and you never thought to tell me? Call me? Anything?" Bruce said, voice breaking a bit.  
"Bruce, it isn't possible. I couldn't let some kid come in and get your hopes up just for them to be crushed because someone was looking for a quick buck. I mean, we don't even know if he's actually a kid. He could be an adult that looks young, either one who is really... well, poor, or maybe a sociopath who's been planning this for months. Or, if he is a kid, either he's desperate for money or he's working for someone. That whole thing in the alley was probably a set up. I mean, this boy comes looking for you, claiming he's Bruce Banner's son, and when I turn him away you find him anyways and he still manages to get into your private quarters? You don't find that the least bit suspicious?"  
Bruce wasn't even listening at this point, already drawing a small amount of the child's blood, frowning a bit when he found it difficult to find a vein. "He's dehydrated..." He mumbled softly, quickly taking his own blood and putting it through the machine usually used for the numerous paternity claims towards Tony. While the machine processed the data, Bruce readied an IV bag, hooking the child to it.  
"Bruce, I-"  
"Not Now, Pepper!" Bruce cut her off again, loosing his patience. He knew very well that it was impossible. First of all, the hulk made him incapable to have children. Second of all, the only person he had ever had complete sexual relations with was a man. However, the child had come looking for him, thinking that Bruce may be his father. Bruce had a very hard time believing that Harry was a con artist just after money. At least with this he could give the boy some piece of mind, maybe even help him fine his real parent.  
Before an argument could start, Tony chimed in. "He's waking up."  
Bruce blinked, looking down and realizing Tony was right. Harry's eyes slowly opened, only for him to gasp and quickly sit up, hyperventilating as he looked around in fear. His eyes fell on the IV in his arm, immediately trying to pull it out. "No, no, Harry." Bruce gently pulled the boy's hand away.  
Harry jerked away from him, eyes looking round wildly before they finally fell on Bruce, squinting a bit. His glasses must have fallen off at some point during the struggle with the thugs.  
As soon as his eyes fell on Bruce, Harry relaxed a little, though not much. "....where am I?" The boy asked,trying to calm his heart rate.  
"My lab at Stark tower. Don't worry. You're safe now." Bruce said, making sure to keep his voice quiet and soothing. He pulled a chair up to sit beside Harry, the boy calming further when Bruce wasn't towering over him. "Harry- That's your name, right?" Bruce asked, waiting until Harry nodded to continue. "I need to ask you a few questions. What is your full name?"  
"Harry James Potter." Harry answered confidently.  
Bruce froze for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
That name. Could he really be James's child? Could that really all be a coincidence? Perhaps he was only one of his relatives. If he was James's kid, Bruce certainly couldn't see the man ever abusing a child so badly. Had he been kidnapped? If so, how long ago? Would Bruce need to face the man he had struggled so long with feelings for to help this child stranger?  
Bruce shook his head, clearing his throat. Harry was more important at the moment. He could sort all that out later. "How old are you? He asked next.  
Harry thought for a moment. "What date is it?" he asked, and Bruce frowned.  
"Uh... June 30th." the scientist said, hesitating only because of surprise. He always knew what date it was due to dating his papers all the time.  
"For the next hour and a half at least." Tony chimed in, making Harry jump and look fearfully at the man, then at Pepper.  
"It's okay, Harry. This is Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and subsequently Stark Tower, and his assistance, Pepper Potts." Bruce said, trying to regain Harry's attention. "Now, how old are you."  
"I'll be 15 at midnight." Harry said.  
Bruce frowned. "15? Are you sure?"  
Harry rolled his eyes. "With all due respect, Mr. Banner, I do know my own age and birthday."  
Bruce nodded. "Of course, but... Harry, if you are telling the truth, you are extremely small for your age. What were your parents like?" he asked.  
At this, Harry looked at his lap. When he finally did speak, his voice was very small. "I... I don't really know actually. Not personally, anyway...The... people who everyone thought were my parents... James Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans... they're dead." His voice progressively got softer as he spoke.  
Bruce froze. "......James Potter is dead?" he asked in a soft voice.  
Harry nodded. "October 31. I was only a year old...." Then, after a moment, leaned in to whisper in Bruce's ear. "If... if it is any consolation, sir.... He loved you very much. He loved you until the end."  
Bruce swallowed, standing quickly. "I need a moment." He said, rushing from the room.  
"Bruce!" Pepper called, then turned on Harry. "What did you tell him?" she asked, glaring at the teen.  
Harry flinched. "Nothing. I mean, nothing bad..."  
Pepper shook her head, glaring daggers at him. "Tony, get this kid out of here while I go console Bruce."  
"What? But we can't just move him. Bruce insinuated he'd be back."  
"Bruce also doesn't deserve to have some greedy brat ruining his life. Bruce may seem like a big tough guy, but he's sensitive. He's already been hurt so much.... call an ambulance for the kid. Get him admitted, and then get him out of our hair." she said, storming out.  
She found Bruce just down the hall, staring out a window. "Bruce? Are you okay?" she asked in concern. Bruce simply nodded, but pepper could see the tears shining in his eyes. The ginger sighed. "...I'm sorry, Bruce." she said softly.  
Bruce shook his head. ".....James Potter..." he laughed, the sound humorless. "Of all the ghosts of my past..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's just... I loved him. And I was finally getting used to the fact that he hated me, and now I find out that, not only does he have a child, but that child is... delusional, abused.... Completely beautiful.... and James is dead.  
Pepper took a moment to process this information. First of all, Bruce was gay. Or at least bi. Second of all, this child did have some connection to him. Still, that only hardened Pepper's resolve that him being here was a bad idea.  
The pair weren't sure how long they stood there, lost in their own thoughts, before Tony peaked out of the lab. "Uh, Guys? You should come take a look at this."  
***  
Harry's anxiety was through the roof. He was aware that his father would be shocked by the vast amount of information that Harry had dumped on him, but now it seemed more likely than ever that he would be cast aside, back onto the streets. To make matters worse, his bag was gone, lost in the struggle to the thugs. Luckily his wand had been in his pants pocket. He still wasn't exactly sure how his clothes got changed, but Dudley's old hand me down pants were still in the garbage, so as soon as he got a moment alone he could once again have that at least. He would certainly need that if he was to survive on the streets on his own. At least he knew his dad had people to care for him. Pepper hated Harry, that much was clear, but only because she cared so much for his father. He didn't know a lot about Tony, but it didn't really matter, not when he wouldn't see him any more anyways.  
As Harry was thinking all this, lost in his thoughts on how to survive and trying not to dwell on the crippling depression slowly seeping through him, a large machine beside Bruce's desk suddenly beeped.  
"Too bad that's not a coffee maker." Tony said, standing, then paused, thinking. "Jarvis!"  
"Already on it, sir." came a disembodied voice, making Harry jump, then look around in amazement. Tony chuckled softly, for a moment wishing this kid really could be Bruce's, if only so he could see more reactions like that to all his brilliant inventions.  
Tony walked over to the machine, sighing as he took the paper from it, walking towards the trash can with it. The paper was just a formality. They all knew damn well that it was impossible on a number of levels for Harry to be Bruce's kid. Still, Tony glanced at the paper, only to humor the poor kid.  
The billionaire froze, smile fading. when he regained his composure, Tony rushed to the door. "Uh, Guys? You should come take a look at this." he yelled down the hall.  
Bruce and Pepper looked at each other before rushing down the hall. Bruce, being a gentleman, let Pepper through first, allowing her to glance at the paper in Tony's hand. She gasped, covering her mouth. For a moment, she thought that perhaps this was a joke of Tony's, but even he wasn't cruel enough to joke about something like this, and besides that the man was far too pale.  
"What?" Bruce asked, snatching the paper and looking at it, then freezing. All three adults stared at the paper, then looked up at the boy in front of them.  
Meanwhile, Harry's eyes were trained on the computer screen, squinting hard to see the numbers. When they turned to midnight, the boy smiled a little. "Happy Birthday, Harry."  
Tony was the first of the adults to speak, as Harry turned to look at them. "Congratulations, Bruce.... It's a Boy."


	8. Sight in Jade

**Previously:**

_Harry's eyes were trained on the computer screen, squinting hard to see the numbers. When they turned to midnight, the boy smiled a little. "Happy Birthday, Harry." Tony was the first of the adults to speak, as Harry turned to look at them. "Congratulations, Bruce.... It's a Boy."_

Pepper stared at the paper in front of her in utter shock and disbelief. "Impossible..." She said, voice barely above a whisper.  
"Pepper, you work in a building with your super genius boss who's best friend turns into a big green monster and coworkers are a twenty whatever year old super soldier from world war two, a secret agent from Russia, a bird man, and two God's, just to name a few. I think we can role out that word." Tony remarked, eyes still trained on the boy before them.  
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, never having liked people staring at him. When Bruce finally spoke, his voice still held some doubt. "Harry.... Who is your mother? As far as I know, the only person I have had... Relations with is a man. James Potter."  
Harry nodded. "That's my... Mother, I guess. I always referred to him as my father before now, but... I suppose that role is yours."  
Pepper shook her head. "Okay, wait, your saying that you came out of a man? Now That is impossible. I may not be a super genius, but I know how reproduction works. And if there had been some freaky male pregnancy fiasco, wouldn't we have heard about it on the news or something?"  
Harry snapped at the redhead, getting tired of her very quickly. "Look, I don't know how it's possible either, alright?" That wasn't exactly a lie. He really didn't know male pregnancies existed until a month ago. "All I know is my father hid it from everyone and somehow convinced the woman who I thought was my mother that the child was hers. Probably by getting her extremely drunk a few times. It can't be impossible because I am here, and the test clearly shows that I am Bruce Banner's son, and the only person that he has ever shagged was James Potter. Maybe it has something to do with the hulk, maybe it had something to do with James. He's not exactly around to ask..." He said, his voice getting softer and holding some resentment for the situation at the end.  
Bruce's eyes softened at the sight of the obviously upset boy. He went over, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the lab table so that he was more at Harry's height. "Harry... How did you find me?" He finally asked, frowning. "If James really died all those years ago and never told anyone..."  
"I found a box of letters the two of you wrote before I was born." Harry said, smiling softly. "He wrote one to himself afterwards, saying how much he loved you and wished he could be with you."  
"Why couldn't he?" He asked before he could stop himself, voice breaking a bit.  
Harry gave Bruce an apologetic look. "Because of me.... James was from a wealthy family. They never would have stopped looking for the two of you to drag him back to his responsibilities." Bruce almost laughed at that, trying to picture James Potter being responsible, but Harry continued, "He said that a life on the run was no place for a child. Anyone finding out about my true parentage would have been dangerous as well." Harry looked down at his lap, tearing up. "It's my fault you couldn't be together.... Just like it's my fault he died...." The boy said, fourteen years of guilt slowly suffocating him.  
Without thinking, Bruce sat beside Harry and pulled him into an awkward one armed hug. Harry flinched for a moment, but soon relaxed into the strangely familiar seeming touch, despite the fact that he hardly knew this man. "Harry, it is not your fault. You were only a baby!"  
"But the man who killed them, he was after me!" He said, looking up at the man.  
"Why would anyone want to to kill a toddler?" Bruce asked in shock.  
"He did say he was from a wealthy family. Could be for ransom, to ruin the family's reputation, an old feud." Tony piped in, thinking.  
Harry shrugged. "The man was insane. Somehow my mother deflected his shot. All I have from the event is this." Harry lifted his bangs, revealing the scar on his forehead.  
"Woah. Pretty sweet mark, kid." Everyone turned to see the new voice at the door, yet another redheaded woman, currently wearing a black sports bra and yoga pants, a thin sheen of sweat across her lightly tanned skin.  
"God, Tash, put some clothes on! There's a child in here." Tony said, teasingly covering Harry's eyes.  
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Trust me. He doesn't care." She said. She had already observed the boys mannerisms the moment he saw her, noting the lack of reaction. This boy was either asexual or gay. Not that she'd say anything, as it wasn't her place.  
Before anyone could comment, a man with Sandy blonde hair entered just behind her, wearing a white wife beater and blue basketball shorts, just as sweaty as the girl. Harry's eyes widened a bit at the man's hard, rippling as he moved a bit into the room.  
Natasha smiled a little, her suspicions confirmed, though no one else appeared to notice.  
"Hello. Captain Steve Rogers." Steve stepped forward, extending a hand to the boy on the table, ever the gentleman.  
Harry shook it with a small smile. "Harry Potter." He replied politely. Steve smiled, retracting his hand after Harry shook it.  
"Natasha." The woman said, nodding in greeting. Harry nodded back with a small wave.  
"Is there a party in here or somethin'?"another man walked in, this one just in sweatpants and an ACDC shirt.  
"Clint! Nice of you to join us. I see you skipped out on sparring."  
The man, Clint, cracked open the beer in his hand. "Because I don't need to. My skills are with my bow, not my fists. Unlike you neanderthals." Clint said in a faux haughty tone. "Who's the kid?" He said, gesturing to Harry with his beer, then taking a long gulp.  
"Bruce's bouncing baby boy." Tony said in his best old lady voice.  
Before anyone could react or process the consequences of Tony's actions, the damage was done, as Clint did a complete spit take of the beverage in his mouth, spraying the poor, helpless wizard boy before him. Harry kept his eyes and mouth tightly shut, nostrils burning with the smell of the alcohol now coating him. Bruce turned bright green eyes on Clint, the vein in his neck bulging as he fought to control himself.  
"What the actual fuck, Clint?" Tony said, deadpanning.  
Steve's eyes were wide in shock. "You have a kid?"  
Meanwhile, Natasha looked betrayed, not saying anything as she grabbed Clint's arm and dragged him away, Pepper following, still doubtful of the situation.  
Bruce quickly grabbed a clean rag, wetting it in the sink and gently wiping the beverage from Harry's face. The teen reached up, grabbing the rag. "I can do it." He said, but Bruce merely swatted his hand away.  
"Do you have any idea how many germs and bacteria reside in the human mouth? Or beer for that matter? Do this wrong and you'll certainly get pink eye." He said, expertly cleaning his son's face.  
"Woah, there, papa bear. The cub may look ten, but he is fifteen." Hearing Tony call him "cub" painfully reminded Harry of Remus. He was happy his eyes were already closed so that his new father wouldn't see the slight sadness in them.  
"Speaking of which..." Bruce said, frowning, as Harry was once again able to open his eyes. "Harry, if your father and step mother died, who raised you?" Bruce asked, wanting answers as to why his son was in such poor shape.  
Harry hesitated. "Oh, the Dursleys. That's my aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. I lived with them and my older cousin Dudley." He said casually. "And.... where are they now?" Bruce asked. Harry wanted so badly to lie to his father. It would make things so much easier, to keep him from asking questions that Harry had been trained to lie to.  
Unfortunately, he couldn't.  
"....still at the beach, I imagine..." He mumbled, looking into his lap.  
Tony's eyes widened. "You ran away?!"  
"Not exactly, they left me behind! They went to the beach while I stayed with a neighbor. So... I told the neighbor my uncle was picking me up, and then I left. By the time they figure it out, they'll never find me. And they won't care anyways." He said, regretting the last sentence.  
"Bruce, we can't keep him here, they'll charge us for kidnapping!" Tony said, but Bruce put up a hand to stop him, eyes never leaving his son.  
"Harry, what do you mean they wouldn't care?" He asked, brow furrowed.  
Harry paled a bit. "Just that... They'd know I was somewhere I was happy. They trust me."  
"If they trust you, why did they leave you with a babysitter?" Tony chimed in.  
"And why did they leave you behind in the first place?" Bruce added.  
"I..." Harry thought fast. "I can't swim." Well it wasn't a lie. "And they trust me, but they do worry. And I might have gotten lonely by myself for two weeks." He added.  
"They left you at home for two weeks while they went to the beach because you can't swim? What about the boardwalk or the sand? There are more things to do than swim." Bruce pointed out, noting the flaws in this story and knowing something wasn't right.  
"Jarvis! Pull up everything on "The Dursleys", key words Petunia, Vernon, Dudley located in the UK. Use Bruce's screens."  
"Right away, sir." Came the disembodied voice, making Harry jump again. Tony chuckled a bit. "Want to say hi?"  
Harry chuckled, nodding. "Hello, Jarvis." He said.  
"Hello, Mr. Potter." The voice replied.  
"Er... You can just call me Harry." He said sheepishly, reminded far too much of Hogwarts.  
"As you wish, Harry." Harry couldn't help but smile at that. However, it was short lived as Bruce's screen lit up suddenly with pictures and documents about the Dursley's, everything from school records to deeds to work resumes. Harry's eyes scanned the countless family portraits, immediately noticing just as the other two men did that he was in almost none of them. In fact, the only pictures he was in were his required school photos, and those only went up to fifth grade, all with large letters SAMPLE stamped across the bottom, as none had ever been bought.  
"I'm sorry, your family is two hippos and a giraffe?" Tony said, stepping forward, voice oozing sass. "If there is enough food for those two to stuff their faces in the entire country, let alone a single home, then there is no reason for you to be that small." He continued, not sugarcoating it.  
"I just have a high metabolism. And I don't eat very much. Just not hungry." Harry shrugged. That was a flat out lie. At Hogwarts, unless he was stressed, the boy could almost keep up with Ron.  
"A teenaged boy who isn't hungry." Said Tony, his tone conveying the same amount of doubt as if he had just been told rain was really unicorn droll.  
Harry still refused to meet any of their eyes.  
"Harry." Bruce looked at his son, voice gentle. "Tell me the truth. The bruises, the malnourishment, the not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. Did your family do this to you?"  
Despite the calmness in his voice, when he peeked through his fringe, Harry could see the green at the edges of his father's eyes, making him hunch in a bit to better guard himself as he responded "No" In a small voice.  
It wasn't exactly a lie. Petunia rarely hit him. Dudley never had any say in his starvation. And the eye thing was just Harry. They hadn't technically told him to do it.  
Before Bruce could say anything else, Tony gently grabbed his arm, pulling him standing and to the side of the room, just out of earshot of the teen. "He's rationalizing." Tony said in a very soft whisper.  
Bruce frowned. "What?" He said in the same tone.  
"You do it too. You rationalize a lie so it becomes the truth. Like when I asked the big guy if he dented up the ship and he said no because technically it was Loki who did it when the Hulk was swinging him around."  
Bruce frowned, not realizing he did that, but it also sounded like something he would do. "How do you know?"  
Tony sighed. "The way he is saying things. He takes time on certain words, not exactly hesitating, just choosing very carefully."  
"So, what do you think we should do?" Bruce began.  
"Well we're sure as fuck not sending him back to that zoo." The Iron Man replied.  
"But you said we'd be charged with kidnap-"  
Before Bruce could finish the sentence, Tony cut him off, turning to Harry. "Welcome to the family, kiddo!" He said, walking over and slinging his arm around the boy's shoulder. In his best woman's voice, Tony went on, "Now don't you worry, Harry. Mama Tony is going to take good care of you." He pinched Harry's cheek, making the boy grimace with a soft laugh, swatting the hand away as Tony pulled him into a standing position. "Come come, darling. Let's show you around your new home."  
With that, Tony set off on giving Harry the Grande tour of Stark Tower, leaving a dumbfounded Bruce Banner behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not the most exciting chapter, but necessary.  
> Oh, yes. Mama Tony is a thing now. And will be a thing for a very long time.  
> Still to come:  
> -Harry meets Loki and Thor  
> -Happy commercial break of Harry happiness  
> -The Dursley's find out Harry is gone  
> -Fred and George fuck some shit up  
> -Evil Dumbledore  
> -Some surprise stuff with Percy Weasley  
> -Multiple slow build romances  
> And so much more!  
> P.S. if you ever want to know why I picked a chapter title, just ask.


	9. When Calls Lapis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, couldn't resist telling you this chapter title meaning.  
> Lapis is a blue semi precious stone.  
> It was once one of the most sought after rocks in the world because of it's supposed connections to the gods.  
> Additionally, who's eyes are blue in the Avenger's? Loki.  
> Buckle up, folks. It's the moment some of you have been waiting for.

Harry was quickly tiring, reminding him again of how long it had been since he had a solid nights sleep or a good meal. However, he hid his fatigue, partially so he wouldn't upset Tony (which, of course, a little voice in his head was telling him wouldn't happen, but years of abuse at the first sign of weakness had trained his mind to think otherwise), but also in genuine awe of the man's place of residency.  
p While the lower levels remained offices and various business facilities for Stark industries, the upper levels had been converted into luxurious living quarters for all of the Avenger's whenever they chose to stay there. This included a spacious living room that would put any of the Hogwarts common rooms to shame, a kitchen and dining area that looked like something out of a magazine with equipment that belonged in The Jetsons, and a bathroom with a toilet that, for a moment, Harry feared had an American Moaning Myrtle in it because it talked. Each of the bedrooms was, apparently, designed by it's owner, but made so that it was only accessible by the resident of the room and whoever they told Jarvis was allowed in at a specific time, so those rooms were excluded from Harry's tour. "And this is just the main living area. This doesn't even include the training facilities, two separate labs, shooting range, and pool. Of course, I also own beach houses in Malibu, Oahu, and Cannes, and vacation homes in Venice and Madrid. Also looking at a property in Greece, just to name a few." Tony said as they stared out the large glass wall at the back of the living room.  
Harry was a little overwhelmed. His father was friends with a man who had so much money, Harry wasn't even sure there was a number for it.  
"This is what happens when you make over twenty billion a year. Only smart people do that, and I don't just mean be smart in school. School can only teach you so much."  
"Tony, please don't bash school in front of Harry." Bruce said, walking up to them.  
"Speaking of which..." Tony said, turning his eyes on Harry with a stern look that set the young wizard on edge, "Why exactly were your grades so low in school? And why are there no records of it after fifth grade?"  
Harry thought fast, the lie sounding obvious even to his own ears. "I-I just wasn't all that good at school. And... They sent me to a boarding school because of it. A small one in Scotland. It was very... Traditional. They didn't even believe in electricity. My aunt and uncle wanted me to really... Appreciate the modern world." He tried to explain.  
Tony frowned. "Uh huh. And your cousin having grades just above yours?"  
"He was just... Smarter." He said. Harry could hardly hold in a laugh at the thought of Dudley being smarter than that damned Apple Draco always seemed to have, let alone an actual person.  
"Oh really? So then your grades being top of the class until about the middle of kindergarten, and then suddenly dropping down to just barely passing?"  
Harry said nothing, eyes to the ground.  
Bruce was watching this exchange, brow furrowed. "Harry.... Tell me the truth. Were you abused?"  
Harry flinched. He couldn't lie to his father. He just couldn't. But he couldn't tell on his aunt and uncle either. He had tried before, and it always went badly for him. He was always somehow sent back, the case closed despite him clearly showing signs of being unhealthy physically and mentally, no matter how many bruises, even a broken arm. Always, somehow, the police investigations and social service visits all came up clean and Harry was sent straight back to the Dursley's and treated even worse than whatever it was he was reporting them for. Instead, he simply kept his head down, silently staring at the ground.  
Bruce could feel the big guy lurking just below the surface, clawing at the man's self control, straining to rip free of his confines of sanity and tear apart the puny mortals who dared to hurt this boy limb from limb.  
However, Bruce resisted, turning away and speed walking to the kitchen. "Jarvis! Brew me a cup of tea. Chamomile."  
"Right away, sir." Came the voice in the next room.  
"So glad I hooked the Kureg up to him." Tony mumbled to himself.  
Harry wasn't sure what to say, but the look Tony said at that moment clearly wanted some comment on this revelation.  
Fortunately, Harry was spared from that particular conversational topic as the elevator at the far end of the living room suddenly opened. "-still don't see why we must take this infernal mortal contraption when we can simply teleport anywhere we like without so much as a click of the fingers!" A man with slicked back, deep raven hair and clothes flashy enough to put Gildroy Lockhart to shame drew their attention, snapping to demonstrate his point.  
"Because, brother, it is rude to enter a mortal's home unannounced." Said another man in equally flashy attire, his hair long and blonde, flowing as he walked.  
"It is also rude to not worship those who gave you the world in a literal sense, but you don't see us complaining to the mortals!" Spoke the first man again.  
"No, you would prefer to destroy half the city, killing hundreds of Innocents while endangering thousands of others, and where does your father pick for your time out chair? He sticks your sorry ass on Earth so I have to deal with it!" The third voice belonged to an exceedingly intimidating man with dark skin and an eye patch.  
Harry found himself unconsciously stepping in front of Tony as if to protect him, wand arm tense despite the fact that he had yet to retrieve his wand from the trashcan in the lab.  
The man with black hair looked like he was about to say something, but stopped, tilting his head a bit as if to hear something better, then turned sharply, eyes locking with Harry's.  
The young wizard started as icy blue met emerald green. He could Feel the power radiating off this man. "....what is a miniature mage doing here?" He asked, looking genuinely confused and distracted from the currently topic.  
The blonde man followed his brother's gaze, eyes falling on Harry. He let out a laugh. "He's so Tiny." He said, clearly amused, making Harry's cheeks burn in anger and embarrassment. Loki frowned a bit. He could feel the power radiating off the child before him, and yet he made no move to attack Thor for the apparent insult. How intruging.  
"He is not a mage and don't call him tiny. For all we know he could go through some weird hulk puberty faze. Not that there would be anything wrong with that, Harry. The changes your body will experience are completely natural, even if you do change a bit more than other boys. And if you ever want anyone to talk to, Mama Tony is always here to-"  
"Can we please not talk about this now?" Harry said, cheeks burning brighter.  
"Anyways, Loki, Thor, this is Harry. Bruce's son, apparently. He just turned fifteen."  
"Fifteen?!" Loki repeated in disbelief. This child barely looked twelve, and yet his magic felt ancient. Such power in such a young mortal.  
"But he is practically a man! Why is he so puny?"the blonde said, confused.  
Bruce walked in just then, saving Harry from more humiliation. "Harry has had a rather hard time so far in life. However, that will all change from now on. We'll get him up to a healthy weight in no time. I trust Tony has already had Jarvis vent out one of the rooms so it won't be stuffy or dusty for Harry tonight?" He said, raising an eyebrow.  
Tony looked sheepish. "Right. I'll get on that... Harry, sunrise or sunset?" He asked.  
Harry frowned. "Um... Sunrise." He said. He was nearly always up at that time anyways, and seeing the sunrise had always made his day more bearable.  
Bruce couldn't help but smile. He, too, always loved sunrises.  
Tony nodded. "Jarvis, vent our best of the remaining east facing rooms." He said to the voice.  
Bruce opened his mouth to reprimand Tony, but was cut off by the man with the eye patch. "As much as I'd love to witness your little couple's quarrel, and I say that with as much sarcasm as possible, I've got bigger problems. Apparently papa God decided to toss this asshole down from the clouds. Because the best way to punish a motherfucker for killing innocant mortals is to toss him to the world of innocant mortals."  
At this, the blonde turned on the dark skinned man, looking even larger and more menacing if that was possible. "You will not bad mouth my father, Oden, God of God's, in my presence, mortal."  
"He's right." The dark haired man mumbled, looking around as if bored.  
At this, the blonde backed down, pouting. "Who's side are you on?"  
"My side." Was the cheeky reply from the blue eyed man.  
Harry blinked, still confused, and Tony cleared his throat. "Harry, Thor, Thor, Harry. Harry, Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, which is basically the government's way if regulating superheroes, Nick Fury, Harry, Bruce Banner's new son." He said, gesturing to each in turn. Then, he did the same with the dark haired man, only this time saying, "Harry, pain in my ass, pain in my ass, if you so much as breath in this child's direction I will fucking kill you."  
"Down, mama bear." Fury said, rolling his eyes. "Whether we like it or not, Loki is staying here."  
"Like hell he is!" Bruce chimed in.  
"We need to keep the Asgardians on our side. My hands are tied, deal with it." With that, Nick turned, walking back to the elevator, mumbling something about not getting "paid enough for this shit".  
After a short period of silence, Loki chimed in. "So.... What do you say, little mage? Want to have a sleepover with a God?"


	10. Bathe in Garnet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO happy that ao3 finally fixed whatever was causing my paragraphs to all merge together.  
> Now I can stop having people assume that it is my fault .  
> DEDICATION!!!!!!!!!!  
> Alrighty. Time for the dedication, folks.  
> You really for this?  
> Person-Who-Hates-Your-Writing-Style-You-Can-Suck-An-Egg  
> My, that's a mouthful!  
> Look, guys! My first troll.  
> I have reached that level of popularity.  
> Apparently said anonymous commenter classifies ao3 not allowing me to write in paragraphs as a writing style.  
> Whatever floats your boat, sunshine!  
> "Honey, you know that not using paragraphs is DUSGUSTIN’! Why the hell are you not using paragraphs?! You did for the last however many chapters! So why not now?! I’m appalled, I can’t even look at this story anymore. Hmph!"  
> Allow us to appreciate the finer points of this comment.  
> The sarcastic use of the pet name "Honey"  
> Was the word "dusgustin'" misspelled intentionally, I wonder? Perhaps it is some secret troll language!  
> What is your secret, one who trolls? LET US KNOW YOUR WISDOM!  
> This user even realized the sudden change in my writing, in that they noted that the paragraphs were no longer separate.  
> And yet assumed this was my doing.  
> They were incorrect.  
> However, my favorite part of this comment? "Hmph!"  
> They spelled out their dismissal of me in a single onomatopoeia/interjection.  
> SUCH WAYS ARE KNOWN ONLY TO THE TROLLIEST OF TROLLS!  
> Thank you, queen of trolls, for gracing us with your presence.  
> THIS ONES FOR YOU!

Harry sat on a plush livingroom chair, still in shock from the scene he had just witnessed. Presently, Loki was laying in a daze on the couch, an ice pack on his head brought to him by Thor. Meanwhile, Bruce was in the dining room in yet another pair of newly changed clothes, nursing a second cup of tea. Everyone else had avoided the room excluding Tony, who was currently fussing over the pile of broken glass and wood on the ground. "Do you have Any idea how rare this was? That was an Ettore Sotsass designed one of a kind coffee table! Blown pure Venician glass perched delicately atop hand sculpted black mahogany. Now Gone forever! Smashed to bits by a big green Toddler!"  
"He made an inappropriate comment towards Harry!" Bruce defended.  
"IT WAS MAHOGANY!" Tony cried out. "Black mahogany you racist green coffee table hating bastard!" Tony cried out, going to the bar and getting himself a drink, distraught.  
"Can't you just get another one? Or at least stop yelling..." Said Loki, wincing. He may not have been able to be too severely damaged, but being smashed through a coffee table still hurt like hell.  
"Oh, yes. Why don't I just go see Ettore Sottsass and have him whip me up another! Oh wait. I can't. He died back in 2007, you uncultured swine!" Tony downed his drink, clearly upset. "I loved that coffee table. It was like a child to me." Tony said dramatically, sniffing.  
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Fine, then if Loki started essentially hitting on your coffee table, wouldn't you be angry?"  
"Yes! But I wouldn't climb into the Hulk Buster and smash him through Harry!" Tony pointed out, then caught sight of the teen in question. "Hey, you okay, kiddo?" The man asked, frowning.  
For the first time since the current issue of discussion, each of the men turned to Harry, currently white as a ghost and sitting still as death in a nearby chair. Harry nodded numbly. "I'll be 'lright." He mumbled, trying to calm down a bit. "Just... Don't like seeing people mad." He said, shrugging.  
Bruce immediately felt guilty pierce his soul. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten his son. ".... Harry, if you are too afraid of the Hulk-"  
"Oh, no, it isn't that!" Harry reassured quickly, and it was true. Honestly, his size reminded him a little of Hagrid. "It's also because of Mama Tony's coffee table."  
Everyone froze when Harry said that, his cheeks turning bright red when he realized what he had said. In his rush to reassure his father, he had accidentally referred to Tony as the name he had been referring to himself as in the third person the entire tour. However, despite Harry's embarrassment, the laughter that followed from Bruce did relax him a little and break some of the tension in the room.  
Thor frowned. "I do not understand. The boys mother is the man of iron?"  
This had Bruce laughing even harder, the man doubled over in half with mirth, tears springing to his eyes. Loki managed a small chuckle, shaking his head a little at his brother's antics. "I will explain later, Thor." He said simply, and the blonde nodded, taking this as enough of an explanation for now.  
Harry could hardly even try to picture himself in a life with these people. They all seemed so interesting. Sparring, shooting arrows, turning into big green monsters, being Gods. The Dursley's would probably have a heart attach or stroke the moment they saw this place. Harry found himself with a small, surprisingly not at all guilty smile on his face as he thought that.  
Loki, meanwhile, was watching the boy closely. He knew that smile, for it was a smile that he had worn many times in his long life. That was the smile of someone picturing terrible things happening to terrible people, and not at all being ashamed because of it. A secret smile, a mischievous smile, a smile worn by the tricksters, pranksters, and more entertaining vigilantes of the world. A smile he invented, and a smile he so wished to know the source of in this small, innocant seeming teenaged boy.  
Not that any teenaged boy was ever truely innocant, but Harry certainly looked the part. If it weren't for the sheer strength of his power and the mischievous little twinkle that Loki could see behind those emerald green eyes, he may have believed the angelic aura that the boy naturally appeared to give off. Fortunately, Loki knew better. After all, as the God of mischief, he could detect it in the most innocant of creatures from a mile away, no matter how slyly they hid their darker parts.  
"Why does Mr. Thor keep calling you "Man of Iron?"" Harry asked, pulling Loki from his inner dramatic speech of observations.  
"Wait, did you just call him Mr. Thor?" Loki asked, deadpanning.  
"Um... Because I am Iron Man?" Tony said, posing dramatically.  
"...who?" Harry said, confused, eliciting a shocked gasp from Tony, who then proceeded to dramatically faint into a nearby chair.  
"Mr. Thor? Seriously?" Loki urged again.  
"Haven't you ever heard of Iron Man?" Bruce said, still ignoring Loki.  
"No, who is that?" Harry asked, and Tony let out a pained noise, hand clutched over the arch reactor as if having a heart attach.  
"Please! No more. I can't take it." The man said, coughing weakly.  
"Is no one going to address that he just called my brother "Mister"?" Loki said, again to no response.  
"Jarvis, play my documentary!" Tony said, his voice weak as if dying, and Harry frowned, wondering what could be in this man's documentary that could cause such a reaction.

Four hours later, Harry sat on the couch, his mouth gaping open in pure shock. "So... All that really happened?" Harry said, staring wide eyes at Tony, having just watched, not only the iron Man documentary, but the one on the Avenger's as a whole as well.  
Tony smiled proudly, nodding.  
Harry looked at Loki. ".... You tried to destroy all of New York. The whole world, even. Make the human race bow at your feet."  
Loki rolled his eyes. "It isn't all as black and white as that. There are other documentaries that will explain."  
"Most of which still include you attempting to enslave the human race." Tony pointed out, and Loki glared at the man.  
"There will be plenty of time for that another day. For now, I think it is time Harry want to bed." Bruce said, looking at the clock. It was after 5a.m.  
Harry frowned. "But it's almost sunrise!" He pointed out.  
"And you have not slept all night. Go on up to your room. If I know what room Jarvis has set for you, you will have a wonderful view of the sunrise for you to fall asleep to." Bruce said, smileing fondly.  
"Jarvis! Show Harry his room." Tony said.  
"Right away, sir." Came the voice, just before the lights on the staircase lit brighter.  
Harry, taking the hint, stood. "Goodnight, everyone." The young wizard said, waving awkwardly.  
Everyone responded with their own generic goodnight. However, it was Loki's that had the young wizard paling slightly in worry, hurrying up the steps. "Goodnight, little mage." Came the smooth, lightly accented voice of the God, blue eyes alight with mischief and hidden knowledge.  
"Stop calling him that!" Bruce hissed as soon as he was sure his son was out of earshot.  
"Oh, calm yourself, Banner." Loki said, rolling his eyes. "There are much worse things I could do."  
"It's obvious he doesn't like it for whatever reason." Bruce said, exasperated.  
"Maybe he just doesn't like some creepy thousand year old man giving him unwanted attention." Tony suggested.  
"Where will I be sleeping?" Loki asked, changing the subject.  
Tony glared. "Upset the kid again and it'll be at the bottom of my pool."  
"Loki is just trying to make friends." Thor defended. "Mage's are well respected in our world. It is probably meant as a compliment!"  
"Well then at least explain that to him." Natasha came into the room just then. "Just passed the kid in the hallway? White as snow and eyes like saucer's. You'd think he'd seen a ghost!" Little did they know he would have rather seen a ghost than a God who appeared to know what he was, just when he finally had a chance to have a normal family.  
Well.... Normal relatively speaking, anyways.  
"The child will be fine. In fact, I have always been fond of children."  
"Yeah, in a bowl with marshmallows and milk." Mumbled Tony, drawing a glare from Loki.  
"I mean it! I think having him around will be good for my Reformation. What better way to show a criminal the error of their ways than to place them around the picture of Innocence." Loki said, a hand over his heart and a dramatically sympathetic expression on his face.  
Tony rolled his eyes. "Go pick your own god damn room, Loki. As long as you are far away from me, I don't give a damn where you stay or if you ever come out again." The man said, then grabbed a bottle of bourbon and stormed up the stairs to his room. The alcohol was purely for effect. He had his own bar in his room, but the god didn't need to know that.  
"Well That was dramatic." Mumbled Loki.  
Bruce rolled his eyes, following Tony.  
Meanwhile, Thor frowned at his friends. He had hoped they could see Loki truely was trying to change. After all, he hadn't exactly been in his right mind when he had destroyed half of New York and killed hundreds of innocant civilians while injuring countless others.  
"Come, Brother!" Thor said, adapting a wide smile, hoping his cheery mood would assist his brother in not being too disappointed about the other's not accepting him, unaware of the dark haired male's apathy towards that issue. He slung his arm around Loki's shoulders, knocking the wind out of him. "Let us find you a room near mine! Then we can talk and see each other often, just as when we were lads!"  
Loki did his best not to roll his eyes. However, just as he was about to make a sassy retort, an idea came to his mind. "....Actually, I was thinking of exploring the rooms a bit. Perhaps find one with a view I find truely good inspiring." He said with faux passion.  
Thor smiled wider, if that was even possible. "That is an excellent idea! Would you like my assistance?"  
"Oh, no, you must be tired. I wouldn't want to put you out. After all, I am working on being good. It would be selfish of me to deprive you of sleep."  
Thor looked as if he was about to cry of pride as he turned to face his brother, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Already the good in the hearts of those in this tower is inspiring you to be a better man." He said, then suddenly pulled Loki into a bone crushing hug. The god of mischief winced, patting the blonde on the shoulder. "I am so proud of you..." Thor said, closing his eyes tightly and breathing slowly to keep from crying. Finally, he pulled away, leaving Loki sore and gasping a bit. With that, Thor made his way up the stairs to his own room before he could shed any unmanly tears in front of his brother.  
Loki did roll his eyes when his brother had left, making his way up the stairs himself. "Now... Where are you?" He said, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. A slow smile crept onto the man's face. "There..."  
The best way to describe the sensation of feeling magic is every sensation at once. You see it as if it were a lightly colored shimmer in the air. You smell it, but as subtly as someone's shampoo. You taste it without it having ever been in your mouth, and it tastes exactly how it smells. You hear it like the gentlest of winds over a particular landscape, creating the most subtle of songs. You feel it as you may feel a mild change in temperature, like when standing beside an open refrigerator in a warm room, or when a barrier blocks the wind and you feel just slightly warmer. And more than all of those, you sense it, like someone's eyes watching you from afar. The stronger the magic, the more potent each of these sensations.  
Harry's magic was particularly strong. In fact, next to his own, Loki was unsure if he had ever felt any stronger. When he looked for it, Loki could see the dark green shimmer of light that swirled around the boy in emerald tendrils, strong and numerous yet coiled so tightly. What could have happened to the boy that his magic would stay so close, so guarding, and also so hidden, held tight but always there?  
The sound it made was like a slow, soft choir, rising and falling in a harmony of high notes, just above a whisper.  
The smell and taste were sweet, but not overly, but with undertones of savory and tangy and an almost spicy aftertaste. The best corporeal equivalent would be Granny Smith apples baked with a light coating of honey and cinnamon.  
The feel of it was cool, like a light autumn breeze at the end of summer, warning of the season soon to come.  
It the same time, the sixth sense of sorts that Harry's magic provided was that of an incoming storm. It was muscles tensed, hair standing on end, the air quivering with electricity. It charged every other sensation of the magic and provided Loki with the giddy energy of doing a particularly strong strain of cocaine.  
Frankly, it was intoxicating.  
Loki followed the trail, finding Immediately which room was Harry's. While he couldn't see the magic right now, he could smell it, taste it, and feel a fraction of it's power. The very air seemed to quiver alone with it, and Loki knew from this movement that the boy was still awake. However, that was no matter at the moment.  
Loki selected the room just across the hall, looking around and finding that it was already aired out. No doubt Jarvis had simply taken it upon himself to do so to all the rooms while he did Harry's.  
Though Loki's magic was bound by his father, thus marginally weaker than usual, he could still perform simple spells. Transfiguring the decor to more his liking was simple enough.  
When the god had finished, the entire room was left in shades of dark greens and blues, done out in luxurious fabrics from his dark green silk sheets to his thick midnight blue velvet curtains. Satisfied, the god quickly stripped down to his undergarments, magically floating his clothing into the closet and laying down on his new bed. Though he didn't need to sleep, it would do him some good to rest up and recharge.  
After all, he did have big plans for the coming days.  
Loki closed his eyes, visions of snow white skin, Raven hair, and emerald eyes flashing behind his eyes as the painfully faint scent of cinnamon apples wafted across the hall.  
Very big plans indeed.


	11. Shining like Moonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a new life for our young hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for.   
> Finally, after so long, an update!  
> Honestly I had an update ready a few weeks ago and, once again, it was deleted thanks to the page reloading. It took a while to regain motivation but, at long last, here we are!  
> This chapter is dedicated to everyone still reading this Fanfiction after all this time.

Harry Potter tossed and turned in the almost too large bed of his new bedroom. The boy was so used to sleeping in tight quarters that he just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Just four short years ago he had still been sleeping in the Dursley's cupboard under the stairs. Then, most of the year he was used to sleeping in a dormitory with a group of other boys. Additiinally, even though he did eventually have a room of his own at his aunt and uncle's house, he almost always fell asleep with the blanket over his head, either from studying in secret under the covers or in attempts to soothe himself from a nightmare. Even then, he had never slept in any bed larger than a twin.  
His current place of slumber consisted of an enormous king sized bed, the top of which had an array of pillows Harry was sure was far more than anyone needed. A body pillow against the headboard, two rows of two regular bed pillows in front of that, and then three decorative pillows in front of those. Additionally, the coverings were more than just the usual sheet and blanket Harry was used to. There was a mattress cover, than a fitted sheet, then a loose sheet, then comforter, then quilt, and finally a soft throw blanket folded neatly at the door of the bed.  
The entire room was ridiculously oversized. It was even a bit larger than the dormitory. The private bath attached to it could rival the prefects bathroom, and, just across from the door, the tub was more elaborate than any Harry had ever seen. The large, rounded square was the size of those standing suburban backyard pools some people put up in the summer, comfortable waterproof seats lining all four sides. The walls were lined with jets that also served as a way to fill the appliance, and, according to Jarvis, it was all automated. All Harry would have to do was tell the disembodied voice to go hotter or colder or add specific bubbles or soaps and it would. There was even a basket of bath bombs on the bathroom sink. The sink, positioned between the tub and the door, was a marvel all its own. Harry was not all that convinced the faucet wasn't solid gold. Judging by Tony's apparent love of the wood, Harry had to guess the cabinet under the sink was most likely made of mahogony, while the basin and countertop was a beautifully shining white marbel. A large, gold framed mirror stood above it, pulling out to reveal a cabinet built into the wall.  
The walls of the bathroom were a deep chocolate brown, while the two soft, fluffy towels on the gold colored rack beside the tub and the hand towel on the matching towel ring by the sink were all a soft cream. The tiles on the floor were the same color, while the rugs in front of the toilet, sink, tub, and shower all matched the walls.  
As if all the other appliances weren't enough, taking up the corner on the other side of the tub was a large shower with heads coming out of all directions on it's three walls. This appliance did require one to actually adjust the temperature with a dial on one wall, but turning each shower head on or off only requires the gentlest of taps to it. The closet across from the shower appeared to hold a lifetime supply of shampoo, conditioner, and soaps in just about every scent Harry could think of, though with brands he couldn't even pronounce, in addition to toothpaste, mouthwash, toothbrushes, razors, hairbrushes, combs, and other bathroom necessities.  
However, the crowning glory of any latrine is, of course, the toilet. This bathroom is no different. Sitting between the closet and the door, The pristine white bowl was accompanied by an electrically heated mahogany seat. The lid of the appliance was the same gold as the other accents in the bathroom. However, no handle was to be found, as it simply needed to be told to flush for it to happen. There were also cleaning water jets within the bowl, as well as heated moist towelettes sitting on the top of it, but Harry was pretty sure he would just be using the normal toilet paper on the gold holder attached to the wall beside the toilet.  
The only thing in the center of the elaborate room was a single large, round vent on the ceiling. According to Jarvis, the vent could be used to emit air freshener, warm a bathroom during a shower so one wasn't cold when they got out, and was even powerful enough to act as a full body dryer.  
As exquisite as all this was, it was only the bathroom. Harry's bedroom was no less large and elaborate. The walls of the bedroom were a dark gold. As previously noted, his bed had an extreme amount of comfort items on it, the furniture piece positioned in the center of the wall adjacent to the door to the bedroom. Every piece on the bed was in some shade of soft orange or peach. Across from the bed were the doors to the bathroom and a large walk in closet with more space in it than could hold every piece of clothing Harry has ever owned in his entire life, let alone the one pair of spare clothes, one pair of pajamas, and one set of clothing his new father lent him that he currently owned.  
Beside the entrance to the door was a mahogany desk with an expensive looking computer on it, the screen of which was large enough that Harry almost thought it was a television. Meanwhile, the actual televisuon, mounted on the wall directly across from the bed between the two doors, was almost the same width of his bed. A single remote that apparently controlled all of the mammoth appliances functions sat on one of the two mahogany end tables that stood on either side of the boy's bed. The other table held an electric alarm clock, currently flashing "8:58" in neon blue lettering.  
However, the truly astonishing part of the room was the window.  
Window, really, was an understatement. The wall across from the entrance go the bedroom was made enfirely of the clearest glass Harry had ever seen, though Jarvis claimed it was actually three feet thick and strong as steel.  
Realizing that he was never getting to sleep with his mind in this state, Harry slowly got up, padding across the soft cream carpet to the window and gazing out at the mid morning sky. The startling array of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges had by now completely faded into a soft grab blue along the horizon as the sun rose over the city. From this height, Harry could see nearly the entirety of that side of New York City. It truly was an amazing sight to behold, all neon lights and climbing sky scrapers, the bustling people below like ants crawling about. Harry still couldn't believe that he was truly here, not only in America, but at the top of Stark Tower with his biological father. His life was changing so quickly it almost made him dizzy.  
The young wizard sighed, shaking his head a bit before gazing out at the clear sky, broken only by a single speck, slowly coming towards him.  
...  
......  
.........  
Wait, what?  
Harry's eyes slowly focused on the speck, studying it as it slowly took shape. The boy gasped in sheer delight. "Hedwig!"  
Harry began frantically trying to open the window, but there didn't appear to be any way to. "Jarvis, what's the fastest way to get outside?" He asked desperately.  
"That would be the helipad, Harry. On the roof."  
"Please take me there!" Harry had barely got out the sentence when he heard the door unlocking, Jarvis having locked it earlier for Harry's privacy. The young wizard rushed to it, flinging it open. He was still slightly surprised to see a path of lights lit up across the cealing, but quickly got over it in favor of sprinting along the corridor towards his destination.  
Nimble, Quidditch hardened muscles carried his thin body quickly as he ascended through the building, eventually bursting through a door. Cool air blasted his face, slightly red and sweaty from the excersize.  
"Get the fuck off me! Ow! What the hell? Fuck off!"   
Harry blinked when he spotted Clint, currently running around the roof, a large ball of white feathers intent on pecking the living shit out of him.  
"Hedwig!" Harry cried excitedly. The bird looked up, giving a squawk that could only be described as surprised and relieved as she flew over to Harry, nibbling on his ear affectionatrly, though a bit harder than usual, clearly having been worried. Harry gave a soft laugh. "Ouch! Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that."  
"Harry, hold still!" The wizard looked up to see Clint, arrow drawn tight, ready to fire at the bird.   
Harry's eyes widened significantly. "No! Please, don't shoot! She's mine."  
Clint blinked a few times, arrow still in place. "You have a pet owl?"  
"Yes! Her name is Hedwig. I've had her since I was eleven."  
Clint hesitantly lowered the bow before putting it away. "Your asshole family let you keep an owl?" He said in disbelief.  
Harry looked saddened then. "No... they hated her. They threatened to kill her all the time, but we're too afraid of my school finding out. One of my teachers got her for me." He explained, trying not to reveal too much about Hogwarts.  
Clint raised an eyebrow. "Your school was seriously weird..."  
Harry laughed lightly. "Tell me about it..."  
Clint smiled a bit. Like just about everyone else in the tower (basically everyone excluding Pepper) the man had practically fallen in love with the small boy. Not in a romantic sense, of course. Moreso in the sense that if anything happened to this child he would kill everyone in sight and then himself. Of course, it was during this realization of affection that Clint noticed the rail thin boy was only in a t shirt and some flannel pants. "Jesus Christ, kid, why the he'll aren't you wearing shoes?" He said, sleepwalking over and wrapping an arm around the kid as he steered him inside, careful not to jostle the bird.   
"Sorry." Said Harry sheepishly. "I rushed out here pretty quickly when I saw her flying towards the building."  
"How did she even get here? Aren't you from England?" Clint asked, and Harry only shrugged cryptically.  
Clint took a moment to make sure Harry wasn't going to say anything else before shaking his head. "You sure are weird, kid..."  
Harry flinched, voice going very soft. "Sorry..."  
Clint felt as if someone punched him in the heart. "Hey, that's okay! I am too. Headway there found me in the middle of shooting blunt tipped arrows at passing birds. Don't look so worried, I said blunt tipped. The most those things do is piss the birds off a bit. Payback for always shutting all over my car."  
"Language."  
Harry looked up to see they had somehow just arrived at the kitchen, Steve currently trying to mop some of the water off what appeared to be a plate full of previously frozen microwavable pancakes. Harry made a face he hooed no one else saw. Unfortunateky, he wasn't so lucky.  
"Yeah, you and me both, kid." Clint teased, laughing as Steve blushed.   
"Sorry." Harry said, looking at the ground nervously.   
"Oh, stop apologizing so much. He's captain america. He can take a little criticism on his cooking. Or lack thereof." Clint said, rolling his eyes.  
Harry looked up then, eyes widening. "Oh! That's right! You're the one with the shield in all those videos!" Harry said excitedly.  
"Oh yeah, almost forgot you watched that documentary last night. You were a fan?" Steve said, smileing softly.  
Harry nodded excitedly. "You were my favorite! You're so bug and strong, without machines, and you embrace your power and get up close in fights. It's amazing!"  
"Hey, wait, what about me?" Clint said, faux offended.   
"Oh! Uh... you were cool too. But... The way he throws that shield is just so amazing."  
Steve couldn't help the laughter that burst out of him through his prideful grin. "Don't let your father hear you say that." He said as he wiped away mirthful tears.   
"Hear him say what?" Tony daid, rubbing his eyes as he came in, wearing only a robe, open to his waist and tied so it his everything important, but still pretty obvious he was naked underneath.  
"Jesus, Tony, put some clothes on." Clint said, covering Harry's eyes. "Also, terrible timing. Your mother. Bruce should have walked in for that to work."  
Tony rolled his eyes, running a hand through his dark, messy hair as he sat at the table. "Piss off. Bruce is Totally the mom in this scenario. As for my state of dress, It's not like he's a girl. He'll be fine."  
Clint rolled his eyes, sitting beside him as another figure entered the room. "Good morning, everyone." Loki said, eyes shining mischeviously. "And how is everyone doing on this lovely day.  
In unison, Harry, Clint, and Tony's faces became extremely red, the former in embarrassment and the latter two in anger, while Steve's became very pale, fearing whatever was about to happen.   
Loki Laufeyson currently stood at the entryway to the kitchen in nothing but a bath robe, just like Tony, though his was made of the shiniest, smoothest fabric Harry had ever laid eyes on. The garment draped over him elegantly, hugging his every curve down to his waist, the looser fabric below the slightly darker green tie hiding everything below his thin hips. Just like Tony, the top was open in a wide V neck to his waist. However, while Tony's abdomen was muscular and slightly hairy around the archreactor, Loki's was perfectly smooth and much more lean, his snow white skin contrasting beautifully with the fabric.   
Loki's eyes met Harry's as the boy examined the man, the fabric giving the bright blue hues an almost aqua appearance. A mischievous smile crossed the god's face as he let his magic gently caress the younger male's own tightly coiled tendrils of power. "Hello, little mage." He said softly, voice almost like a song in its gentle tone. The combined effect of the man made a small shiver travel down Harry's spine.   
Just before Steve's soggy plate of pancakes was thrown at the man, glass smashing to pieces against his face. Harry let out a soft scream, covering his mouth, fear in his eyes as he backed against the table, shaking slightly. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what happened to Loki.  
"Put some clothes on, you perverted old bastard!" Screamed Tony.  
The God rolled his eyes before snapping his dingers, teleporting out of the room.  
Steve moved to pick up the pieces of broken plate and attempt to salvage some of the pancakes. Tony was shaking, trying to control his anger.  
Meanwhile, Clint was the first to notice something was wrong with Harry. "Harry?" He said softly. "Harry, it's okay. Loki is fine. Tony's not mad at you." He zaid, coming to the front of Harry, gently stroking his shoulders, finally drawing the attention of the other two.  
"For fucks sake, Tony. You seriously need to watch your temper. We saw yesterday how much stuff like that bothers Harry!" No one was sure when Natasha entered to room, but here she was, thrusting an extra pair of clothes at Tony before going to help Clint calm the shaking boy. Clint, being the only one with actual parenting experience here, was currently doing his best to try to talk Harry back into reality instead of in whatever abuse formed headspace he was currently in.  
Tony felt as if his heart was shattering as he watched the boy he had so quickly come to care so much for. "I... I didn't mean to, I just... I lost control. The way he looked at him, and the way he talked-"  
"He's Loki, Tony!" Said Clint, clearly irrirated. "He's said and done worse. I don't like him around this kid any more than you do, but we have to make the best of the cards we were dealt." As he said this, he pulled the boy close, laying the raven haired head against his chest.  
Tony blinked before turning to leave the room, almost running into Thor on his way out. "What did I miss?" The blonde asked, frowning as he examined the room. The broken glass, the ruined pancakes, the shaking child. Finally, the God sighed. "Loki?"  
Everyone nodded. "Loki." The said in unison, before Tony pushed past him.  
Steve sighed, throwing away the pieces of glass and the pancakes, having been unable to save any. "Well, I suppose I'll get back to trying to make breakfast. I know today's supposed to be Tony's day, but I really wanted to try to do something special for the kid and thought he might like pancakes..." the super soldier said, embaressed.  
"I-I'm okay..." Harry said softly then, pushing away from Clint, still shaking slightly but now clearly in the present place and time. "Um... want me to make breakfast?" He asked.  
Natasha frowned. "Kid, you don't have to do anything for us. We know your aunt and uncle forced you to cook, but we would never do that."  
Harry nodded. "I know." He said with a soft smile. "The thing is, I actually like cooking. And I'm pretty good at it. And you have all been really nice to me. Making everyone a good breakfast seems like the least I can do."  
Natasha, Steve, and Clint were still about to decline when Thor answered first. "Spoken like a true warrior! I say we let the tiny man child. It is his choice, after all."  
Harry smiled, not waiting for anyone else to answer as he got up and began preparing pancakes from scratch.  
If one looked closely, they could almost see the mild glare as he looked at the eggo frozen pancakes box. No family of his would ever accept such atrocities as true pancakes ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!  
> So! What do you all think?  
> By the way, Moonshine is a symbol of New beginnings.  
> Reminder that the gel in each chapter represents something within the chapter.  
> The only exclusions are the title, in which Emerald represents Harry himself, and the first chapter, which has a box that starts the entire story just as a jewelry box opens to reveal the gems inside.  
> Thoughts? Questions? Comments!


	12. BONUS CHAPTER: Mrs. Weasley's Magical Mugcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recipe bonus chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Author-senpai here!  
> If you're like me, when you read about an amazing sounding food in a fanfiction, you feel as if you simply HAVE to try it. It truly enhances the experience of the story.  
> Well, here's your chance!  
> Here's a quick and easy orange spice cake (made by yours truly) just like the one Mrs. Weasley made for Harry from chapter 2!

INGREDIENTS  
4 tbsp flour  
1/4 tsp baking powder  
2 tbsp milk  
2 tbsp orange juice  
1/8 tsp vanilla  
3/4 tbsp melted butter  
1 tsp orange zest

Now, the rest of the ingrediants are more of a personal preference. A spice cake consists of different amounts of Ginger, Nutmeg, Brown Sugar, Cinnamon, or Cloves.  
You can use all or some of them. It's still a spice cake as long as there are two or more.

***For a sweet orange spice cake (as some people can't handle the kick a lot of spice cakes have)  
1 tbsp ground cinnamon  
1 tbsp brown sugar.

***Authors favorite:  
1 tbsp ground cinnamon  
1 tsp brown sugar  
1/2 tsp ginger  
1/2 tsp cloves

Or make your own combination! The batter doesn't have eggs, so you can taste it and add small amounts of each of the five spices you like until you find your perfect mix.

DIRECTIONS:  
1\. Mix flour and baking powder in a microwave safe mug (or cup or bowl)  
2\. Add the orange juice and mix thoroughly  
3\. Add the orange zest and mix thoroughly  
4\. Add butter, vanilla, and milk, then mix thoroughly  
5\. Mix your desired spices in a separate bowl, then add them to the batter and mix thoroughly  
6\. Adjust the spices to your taste, testing the batter as needed  
7\. Microwave for 1 minute 45 seconds. If center is still not cooked, keep cooking for 15 second increments.  
Or don't.  
Frankly it doesn't have egg so it won't hurt you if it's a little gooey in the center.  
Additionally, I'm not your mother, so even if it did have egg in it I'm not going to tell you what to do.  
8\. ENJOY! (That's an order)

If you try this cake, please post your results in the comments, along with what spices you ended up using!  
Even If you don't like it. Not every person likes every type of cake so I won't be offended.


	13. Purple Flourite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dynamics are decided and Loki is preparing to be even more of a creep.  
> Additionally, Harry learns just what a strange country America truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever spot a typo or mistake just let me know and I'll fix it.  
> For imagery purposes, later when they all sit at the kitchen island, Steve is on the end with natasha beside him then thor on her other side. Across from Steve is Clint, then Tony across from Natasha, and then Bruce across from Thor, then Harry with an empty seat across from him.  
> This Chapter is dedicated to Loca Briar, since she cannot have the cake on the previous chapter

Harry couldn't help the smile his face held as he mixed the pancake batter. "What kind of foods does my dad like?" He asked curiously among the chatter of the group.  
"Supposedly he's the only one of us who actually has any taste for good food, but I have yet to see any proof of his so called skills in the kitchen." Tony replied, arriving back in the room and taking his seat at the kitchen island once again beside Clint. The exceedingly long eating surface was added as Tony reworked the stark tower design for residential use and could fit twelve people, enough for every avenger and a few unexpected guests that might drop by.  
"Well, excluding his baking." Steve chimed in, and Clint gave out a soft moan, eyes rolling back a bit.  
"God, can that man bake." He said just above a whisper, voice almost a moan.  
Tony nodded. "Oh, Hell yes. The cake he made me for my birthday last year made me cream my pants right then and there."  
"Tony!" Steve hissed at the other, glancing at Harry as Natasha facepalmed. Thor just looked confused and Clint was holding back laughter.  
Harry himself, meanwhile, was far too lost in his thoughts to understand the dirty remark. His father could bake, and had apparently made a birthday cake for Tony in the past. Would he ever make Harry a birthday cake? What would it be like to have a real cake you received on your birthday with friends and family, instead of a few days before or after by owl post or given to you in the middle of the night, sat on by a half giant, and half eaten by your cousin? What could his life have been like if James had simply risked staying in America and raised Harry with Bruce? To have parents who loved each other and bought you birthday presents and baked for you... It was all almost too good to be true.  
"Oh!" Tony suddenly spoke up, standing quickly and rushing to the box on the wall, sliding it open. "Yes! Mails here." He called, rushing back and handing out everyone's mail, then holding a single, giftwrapped package as he came around the counter to Harry. The boy paused in mixing the batter, blinking as he was pulled from his thoughts. "Harry, I-" Tony began, then stopped. The man turned on his heel, just now noticing the owl perched on the kitchen window seal. He looked around questioningly at the group.  
"Harry's pet owl." Clint explained, as Steve and Natasha also suddenly noticed the giant white bird in the kitchen, wondering how the he'll they missed if before. Only Thor seemed unsurprised, as many Asgardians had exotic or wild pets.  
"You have a pet owl?" He asked the boy in surprise.  
"You have a pet ceiling robot." Harry retorted, pouting.  
A shocked choking noise came from Jarvis. "I am not a pet, not am I a ceiling robot. I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System."  
Harry blinked. "That's what Jarvis stands for? Really?" He said, surprised, then suddenly caught how sassy his tone was. "Oh! S-Sorry." He said, holding the boy tightly, starting to shake a bit again. However, he froze when Tony broke out into a fit of laughter, doubling over as tears rolled down his face. "N-No! Holy shit, this kid is great! Seriously, we are so keeping him!"  
"He's still not a pet, Tony." Natasha said, rolling her eyes.  
"No, but Jarvis is." Clint said, chuckling.  
"I wouldn't piss off the ceiling robot if I were you." Thor said warningly, aware of Jarvis's power in the building. This had everyone laughing, even Harry a little.  
"While I do not at all appreciate your previous referencing to me, Harry, I do believe I can answer your previous question. Bruce Bankers usual comfort food is cinnamon rolls."  
Harry smiled wide, grabbing the cinnamon and some stuff to throw together a quick icing. "Cinnamon pancakes with a maple glaze topping it is!"  
Fifteen minutes later, Bruce walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He froze as an astonishing smell met his nose, eyes still closed as he tilted his head curiously. He let out a soft moan as he slowly opened his eyes. "Did someone order Cinnamon rolls?"  
"No." Said Tony, as he shoved a forkful of the food in his mouth almost as fast as Harry could dish it out. "But Harry made the best fucking pancakes I've ever tasted!"  
"Language." Steve said, rolling his eyes as he spoke through a mouthful of pancakes himself.  
"None of you have any manners." Natasha rolled her eye's, though she herself was eating the pancakes as fast as she could while still being ladylike. "  
"Fuck manners and language. Food this good should be a sin. I feel like I'm going to hell with every bite." Tony retorted.  
However, everyone froze when they heard the eerie stillness around Bruce, turning to see why his silence held such presence.  
"I find out I have a teenaged son who is undergrown, malnourished, heavily abused, and mentally scarred, and you have him cook you Breakfast?"  
The anger in the air was almost palpable, Bruce's eyes tinged green and a vein throbbing in his neck.  
"I-It's not their fault. Harry insisted, just finishing up plating the most perfect plate possible, a stack of six pancakes all the exact same time with the home made icing delicately dripping down the cuisine. It looked like something out of a magazine as Harry set it at the setting on the other side of Tony. "I wanted to make somethibg. To thank everyone. And Jarvis said you loved Cinnamon rolls, so I made these. And there's more if anyone wants them." He said, gesturing to the large platter of extra pancakes on the counter, just next to a bowl of the icing.  
Bruce slowly calmed a little, eyeing the plate suspiciously before slowly sitting in his place, picking up his fork and getting a small portion of the pancakes. That was all it took for the man's anger to almost literally melt away in a soft moan before digging in just like everyone else. Harry couldn't help but smile as Everyone returned to their food. "Where's your plate?" Steve asked, drawing everyone's attention back to Harry, who had instincually taken to standing in a spot by the stove after he cleaned up. The boy blushed sheepishly. "Oh, uh... I'm not very hungry." He said.  
Which was a lie. He was practically starving, but the boy was so used to cooking for others and then just standing there waiting for further instructions that the mere thought of eating with the others after cooking breakfast gave him a mild anxiety. The only times he had ever eaten breakfast like that was with the Weasleys or at Hogwarts, and those times he never cooked, so it didn't feel the same.  
Bruce, realizing how the boy was thinking, stood and walked to the counter. He played four pancakes and a generous amount of the maple syrup and set it beside him at the table, just across from the empty seat beside Thor. "Eat." He said, no room for argument.  
Harry slowly sat, hesitantly picking up his fork and taking a small bite. His eyes widened as he tasted a full, unblemished bite of his cooking for the first time in his life. "It's food!" He said excitedly, smileing wide, making everyone laugh as Steve poured glasses of milk and passed them out to everyone.  
"Well, obviously, kiddo. You didn't hear us all orgasm in unison over these things?"  
"Tony!" Bruce said, clearly irritated.  
"It's parenting tactics, sweety. The more uncomfortable he is with sex, the less likely he is to have it before he's thirty. What's more uncomfortable than thinking of his parents when sex comes up?"  
"So Mama Tony and Papa Bruce is official?" Clint teased, making Steve almost spit out the milk he had just been drinking.  
"As long as we are all aware of who the obvious top is." Tony smirked, popping more pancakes into his mouth.  
Harry covered his ears. "Ugh! Okay. You win. Please, no more."  
Everyone laughed yet again, and the atmosphere in the kitchen was unbelievably warm and comforting. However, Harry couldn't help but glance at the empty seat across from him, noting that Loki was still not yet back. "Um... I'll be right back." He said, standing. Tony gave a casual wave and Bruce nodded as the two continued an argument over who the top was, assuming Harry had just gone to the bathroom. As soon as he was up the stairs, Harry looked around, wondering where exactly he was going. "Jarvis, could you please show me the way to Loki's room?"  
"Of course, Harry." Said the voice, as the lights on the ceiling lit up once more.


	14. Pyrite: The Fools gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's antics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be running this story through Google docs for spelling and grammar check sometime some time this week. Just put up with the imperfect phone typed story for a little longer.  
> DEDICATION!  
> This chapter is dedicated to SurrealCrazy for her wonderfully enthusiastic comment. Thanks for all the support!

Loki Laufeyson smirked as he looked in the mirror, impressed with his careful handywork. It had taken quite a bit of effort, but the God had finally managed to create the effect he was hoping for. As soon as he got to his room, Loki had been quick to grab a straight razor from his bathroom, using it to carefully deepen the cuts left by the broken plate. As his godly powers, while weakened, still healed him quickly, the cuts had to be reopened and deepened continuously in order to produce a substantial enough amount of blood. Additionally, the God had to work hard to suppress his powers so they wouldn't close up before he got a chance to put his plan into action.  
Sure enough, not even a half an hour later, the God heard a hesitant knock on his door.

Harry wasn't sure why he was even doing this. The God had done nothing but risk his cover since he first met him. And yet, here he was, worried because an all powerful immortal being was hit with a plate of pancakes. "This is ridiculous... He probably didn't even bleed. He probably healed immediately and is just up here planning world domination Or something..."  
Despite his internal turmoil, Harry found himself knocking on the God of Mischief's bedroom door.  
"Ah! Um... one moment. I'm... I'm a little busy," came a surprisingly nervous sounding voice on the other side. Harry frowned. "Um... Mr. Loki? Are you okay?" Harry asked hesitantly, hoping he would just say yes so he could be on his way.  
"Um...yes? I think..." A resigned sigh followed the statement. "No. No I'm not. But, I don't see how you could- Oh! Maybe there is something you could do to help."  
Harry frowned, confused. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"  
"Is there anyone with you?" Loki asked.  
"Um... no..." Harry said honestly.  
"Excellent!" said Loki, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. I don't want any of the others to see me in this state. Come in, please hurry." He said urgently.  
Harry hesitated only a moment longer before entering the room, closing the door behind him. "Loki?" Harry asked, slowly approaching the man, who sat with his back to him on the bed. The young wizard gasped when the man turned, a blood soaked towel pressed to his face. "Oh my god! What happened?" He asked, trying not to recoil at the sight of all the blood. This man needed him, he couldn't just turn away like a squeamish child.  
"That damned plate scratched me pretty good. And it seems my father has bound my magic even tighter. My body isn't healing at all!" Loki said. He tried his best not to make his tone too pathetic. No need to lay it on too thick, after all.  
"That's terrible!" Harry said. "Can't you just pray to him or something? If he sees your state, surely he'll give you your powers back enough to heal."  
Loki shook his head. "I doubt it. He's probably be happy to see me like- Oh! I've said too much," he said, turning away.  
Harry frowned, but decided to put that thought on the backburner for now. "We need to get you to a hospital or something..."  
Loki shook his head. "I can't. No one can know I am in the city except the Avengers, SHIELD, and you. Even with a proper disguise, they'd realize I was a god with very little examination."  
"Well... what can I do?" Harry asked, feeling helpless and small. "I don't know hardly anything about first aid."  
"Use your magic," Loki said with a small, amused smile.  
Harry's eyes widened. "What? I can't! Even if I could do so without my cover being blown, I left my wand in my room. I've been debating breaking it all day..." he admitted.  
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Go ahead. You don't need it."  
"For magic I do," Harry said, frowning. "I'm not advanced enough to do landless magic, and I don't know any healing spells."  
Loki sighed. "My dear little mage, magic is never about wands and words. Only power and intent. The more powerful you are, the less you need a wand. And, with enough intent behind it, words become irrelevant. Besides, if you don't...well, I'm afraid I'm a goner. I don't know what happens to a god when he dies, but I doubt it is good," Loki said, doing his best to look a but frightened as he stared into his lap.  
Harry thought for a moment, weighing his options in his head. He didn't want to use magic, and he wasn't particularly fond of the god, but he didn't want him to die either. "What do I have to do?" He finally asked.  
"I knew you'd make the right choice," Loki said, smiling as he pulled the towel away, earning a gasp from Harry that Loki sadistically doing satisfying. "Just place your hands over the cuts, close your eyes, and imagine yourself healing me. You have to really want it, to picture it happening and hope with everything you have for me to be better," Loki said, voice barely above a whisper. Harry nodded, raising his hands, but then paused. He could see the slight fall in the gods hopeful expression, though he appeared to try and hide it. “I… I understand if you do not wish to save me. I know I haven't done anything to deserve such kindness, and-”  
“No, It's not that!” Harry interrupted hurriedly. "It's just… what if it doesn't work?"  
Loki gave a soft smile. “Then that's okay. But...” He said, then gently took the other's hands, pressing them firmly to his face. "I believe in you, dear little mage." He spoke softly, earning a soft flush from the boy, and it took everything in Loki not to allow the smirk he could feel wanting to emerge show.  
Meanwhile, Harry was shocked. Thanks to Loki's words, a rare breed of praise for the boy, the young wizard could feel what little self confidence he had swell slightly. Having someone believe and trust him, rather than tell him what to do or how to do it or praise his greatness and simply tell him he can and will do it, it was a wonderful feeling. Loki's life could be on the line, and yet he was acting as if it was completely up to Harry whether or not he did anything about it. Not to mention the lack of people who had ever called him “dear”. The God had done it twice now. Harry slowly let his eyes close, concentrating with everything he had on making Loki's wounds go away. He heard a soft gasp from the god, and a stab of fear went through him, afraid it wasn't working, and so the boy tried even harder.  
Meanwhile, Loki was flabbergasted. In truth, it usually took much more practice than what he led on to use this sort of magic. It was entirely mind over matter for those with the ability, of course; the magic user believed so hard that they needed a wand that they simply could not use magic without it. Loki had planned on simply letting his own magic heal him so as to build Harry's confidence, but apparently it was unneeded. Loki could feel the boy's magic spread and surround him, wrapping him like a blanket from head to toe. It ruffled his hair slightly as the wounds shut, a cool, comforting breeze brushing through the room. Harry’s own hair and clothing, too, moved by this gentle, magical breeze. The boy's eyes were shit, brow furrowed in concentration. His soft lips were parted slightly, quivering occasionally as if saying a small, silent prayer or chant for the God to get better. The soft glow of his magic surrounded him in tendrils that moved slowly, flowering outward slightly and not so tightly coiled around him as they solidified into a mass of waving, shimmering mist that surrounded both of them. Loki felt bad for anyone without the ability to see magic; in this moment, encompassed in his power, Harry was one of the most beautiful creatures the man had ever seen.  
It took considerable effort on Loki's part to return to his usual level of concentration and complete the rest of his plan.  
The God concentrated hard on a single drop of his own blood, allowing it to thin and sharpen enough to slice through Harry's palm and enter his body. Just in time, too, as Loki felt the deep, magically open wounds heal completely just seconds later, before the boy collapsed against him, shaking and panting. Loki blinked, shocked as he stared down at the small, quivering creature.  
Harry’s own mind was going completely granting. “It didn't work,” it kept repeating, “It didn't work, it didn't work, it didn't work. I'm a failure. A useless freak, and now Loki is going to die because of it.” Harry did his best to hold back tears and push away from the man he had just collapsed against, but he simply couldn't move, his body too exhausted. The frustration and embarrassment had even more tears looking in his eyes. “I'm sorry…” he said softly.  
Loki did actually smile now, though it was a soft, vaguely amused smile as he pulled the boy securely into his arms. “Little mage, open your eyes,” he said softly but firmly, and wasn't at all surprised when he did so, staring at the wall beside them blankly. “Look at me,” Loki commanded in the same tone, and the boy did, face tilting him as green eyes met blue. Loki smirked when those eyes widened. Though Loki's face was still covered in blood, where Harry’s hands had been it was clear there were no more cuts. Only a few mildly less bloody hand prints. “Let's go get cleaned up,” he said, then stood, holding the boy bridal style.  
Harry blushed. “I can walk…” he said in a stubborn and defiant tone.  
“No you can't,” Loki said, simply but firmly. “Your magical exhaustion has spread to your physical body. While it worked and you did successfully heal me, the amount of magic you used to do so was extremely excessive. We'll have to work on that.”  
Harry’s eyes widened. “But I don't want to do magic anymore!” he again insisted.  
“Oh? And you would risk your new family getting hurt while you are unable to do anything about it?” the God replied with a small smirk. Harry looked away, crossing his arms as he was carried into the bathroom. Loki couldn't help but chuckle. He truly did look like a pouting child like this. He set the boy on the closed toilet seat, smirking a bit as he crouched in front of him. “So! Just a few washcloths and some soap and water from the sink? Or… we could always bathe together.”  
Harry’s face immediately broke into a bright blush as he pushed the God away roughly. “Perverted old bastard! This is why you get thrown into tables and plates thrown at your face!”  
The God rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I saw you staring this morning. You would have much rather used me as you're plate, wouldn't you, little mage?” The God spoke softly, allowing the back of his fingertips to caress Harry’s face. “Or perhaps you simply would have rather had me for breakfast.”  
Harry would have been offended and frightened had it not been for the mischievous, teasing glint in Loki's eyes. Still, he felt a stab of internal pain as he fought to fight down the flashbacks to his uncle as he pushed Loki harder.  
Loki fell back slightly, unable to help the eruption of laughter that came from him. “Oh Odin, you should see your face,” He managed through laughter as he stared at the others bright pink complexion.  
Meanwhile, Harry was transfixed, all of his previous thoughts suddenly fading in an instant. Loki's laugh was surprisingly cheerful and mirth filled, nothing inherently dark or cruel like the laughter of some people he knew. His smile was bright and sincere, pearly white teeth peaking out between pale lips. The only thing truly unsettling was all the blood on the side of Loki's face. “We should really get you cleaned up…” he said, and Loki nodded. He stripped quickly, Harry covering his face as he did. “Merlin! Must you be so bold?”  
“Must you be so innocent? Honestly, didn’t you go to a boarding school? Weren’t you always around other boys dressing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, Boys! People my age. Some of them hadn’t even hit puberty yet. The ones that had weren’t all that attractive. You’re…”  
“A man?” Loki said, a low, mischievous tone to his smooth, rich voice.  
Harry glared behind his hands. “Yes!”  
This only made Loki laugh again as Harry heard the rusting of more clothing, followed by the shower being turned on and the clouded glass doors of it being slid shut. Harry sighed in relief, finally uncovering his eyes as he went to wash his hands in the sink. “I can’t believe you’re just showering in the same room as me just like that.”  
“Did you see the amount of my blood on me?” was the reply through the glass.  
Harry sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It just seems very… Brash.”  
“I’m a God, came the simple reply. “I assisted in the affairs of many aspects of this world and others. I am immortal. And I am very aware that I am exceedingly physically appealing. Why not be brash in a situation like this? Speaking of which… Why are you hiding such delicious power, little mage?”  
Harry froze, glancing at the pale, still shape on the other side of the glass. He looked back to where the red swirled water was quickly spiraling down the sink. “...It’s not something I like talking about.” he said softly.  
There was a moment of near silence broken only by the sound of rushing water before Loki finally spoke up. “Never be ashamed of your gifts, little mage. They are part of what makes you you, what makes you special.”  
“And yet it is part of why my father and Mama Tony hate you.”  
“Did you really just call him mama Tony again?”  
“Can you please stay focused! Or don’t. I don’t care. Like I said, it’s not something I want to talk about!”  
Loki was silent then, and for a moment he wondered if Loki really was going to drop the matter. “...does it have anything to do with why you came here? How you suddenly showed up at Stark tower? I have never heard of Bruce Banner having a son… was your mother cruel to you, or made you hide your powers.”  
“My mother died when I was a baby. It was my aunt and uncle who raised me.” he said softly.  
“Hm… Would this have anything to so with two hippos and a giraffe Clint was mumbling about wishing to use as target practice on his way to the roof this morning.”  
Harry couldn’t help but smirk a bit at that. “I imagine so.”  
“I can feel you wearing my smile, little mage. And don’t tell me not to call you it. I’m a god, I will do as I please. You should embrace your gift, not hide it away. One of your own famous scientists once spoke, “Everyone is a genius, but if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree it will go its whole life believing it is stupid. Albert Einstein.”  
Harry wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. “I’m more of a platypus than a fish. Something that… doesn’t really belong anywhere.”  
Loki sighed. “And yet they are the only mammals to lay eggs. Which makes then even more special.”  
“More freakish.”  
“Never use that word!” Harry was taken aback as the door flew open, Loki appearing livid. “Is that what they told you? That you were a freak.”  
Harry, meanwhile, was frozen in fear. He didn’t like seeing anyone angry, and Loki was one of the fiercest. Loki noticed this, closing his eyes as he took a few deep breaths, fighting to calm down. “You are not a freak, little mage. Far from it. You are unique. You are special. The only reason they hate you is because they are not, and they couldn’t deal with the self resentment for it, so they pinned it on you. But you are not a freak. Never say that are are again in my presence, is that clear?”  
“Yes…” Harry said, calming down a bit at Loki’s gentler tone and the simple command. He focused on his breathing for a moment… then finally realized Loki was naked, water dripping slowly down his slim but well muscled body. His skin was pale and flawless, completely void of hair. The only exceptions, of course, were his currently soaked long raven locks, hanging loose around his shoulders, intense eyebrows, long eyelashes that framed those captivating blue eyes, and as Harry’s eyes trailed down…  
…  
Oh, sweet Merlin.  
“Ack- Put some clothes on!” The boy said as he covered his eyes, and Loki found himself chuckling again. “You certainly are a wonder, little mage."


	15. BONUS CHAPTER: "Harry is a Cinnamon Roll" Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting an update tonight, but to tied you over, Here's another recipe bonus chapter! Comment your results!

Recent chapters have held some pretty sweet moments for our little hero and villainous casanova. Why not enjoy the story with the same sinfully delicious sweet cinnamon roll pancakes Harry makes for his new family?  
This recipe makes 4 large pancakes.  
Recipe also includes a way to make them with a box mix. Just be aware that Harry will be very disappointed if you use a box mix with his recipe.

INGREDIANTS  
Pancakes-  
4 tbsp melted Butter  
1 tbsp softened butter  
1/4 cup brown sugar  
2 tbsp ground cinnamon  
1 cup flour  
2 tsp baking powder (or 1/2 tsp baking soda with 1 tsp lemon juice to initiate the reaction.)  
1/2 tsp salt  
1 cup milk  
1 egg

Maple Glaze-  
2 cups powdered sugar  
3 tsp milk  
3 tsp maple syrup

DIRECTIONS  
Pancakes- (If using a box mix, follow directions on box and skip to step 5, you heathonous skum)  
1\. In a small bowl, combine the melted butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Set aside.  
2\. Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a mixing bowl. (If using baking soda, add lemon juice directly into this now and mix thoroughly) Set aside  
3\. Combine milk and eggs in separate mixing bowl, beating thoroughly.  
4\. Pour egg mixture into flour mixture and mix thoroughly.  
5\. Add Cinnamon mixture to batter. Stir thoroughly. AUTHORS NOTE: Alternatively, if you want to get fancy, get a spoon and drizzle the pancakes in a swirly pattern so they look like Cinnonon rolls. If you do this, I recommend adding a 1 tsp vanilla and 1 tbsp Cinnamon to the pancake batter.  
6\. Cook as you would normal pancakes, pouring small amounts into a hot, greased pan and flipping when the pancake is full of bubbles.  
7\. Plate

Maple Glaze- (I recommend you start to prepare this while you are waiting for the pancakes to bubble)  
1\. In a small bowl, whisk together all ingrediants until smooth.  
2\. Add more maple syrup to taste if you wish.  
3\. ....That's it. You're done.

POUR YOUR GLAZE OVER YOUR PANCAKES AND EAT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in 2014, after the first avengers movie, after they find hulk and things have relatively calmed down. This is before all other Avengers movie, and the Harry Potter universe has been shifted to 20 years later than it usually would be.


End file.
